


The Spider of Velen

by Smiling_Seshat



Series: Witcher works [3]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Dimension Travel, Diplomacy, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Fix-It, Light Angst, M/M, Military, Nilfgaard, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Politics, Temeria (The Witcher), The Skellige Isles (The Witcher), Transmigration, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smiling_Seshat/pseuds/Smiling_Seshat
Summary: After his defeat against Kishou Arima, Kaneki wakes and finds himself in Velen. One year later, he's become the protector of a small village called Oreton, guarding it from the invading army of Nilfgaard. But the situation is steadily worsening, and Kaneki needs to find a permanent solution before it's too late...
Series: Witcher works [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649437
Comments: 66
Kudos: 163





	1. The Trip to Fyke Isle

**Author's Note:**

> You don't need knowledge of Tokyo Ghoul to understand this.
> 
> I'm trying to keep this story OC-free. Every named character here is a canon character. The Witcher universe has so many named characters that I'm pretty sure I can pull this off and write an entire story set in the Witcher-verse without resorting to OCs to create minor throwaway characters.
> 
> I haven’t read Tokyo Ghoul:Re, so this Kaneki is based on the TG mangas only, which end with the Kaneki&Arima battle.

Kaneki was woken early in the morning by the sound of a woman softly calling his name. It was Nordrada. She seemed worried.  
  
"Are they attacking again?" he asked, hurriedly throwing off his blanket and jumping to his feet.  
  
It was so early that he had to squint to see. The sun was still low in the sky, barely sending out the beginnings of light. The fireplace inside the house only had a few embers left.  
  
The woman shook her head, chin trembling. "No, it's worse." She paused, her body shaking. "They burned the fields... and salted them."  
  
Kaneki closed his eyes. "How long do we have?"  
  
Nordrada shrugged. "Without the harvest? The war's already got us hungry. We could fish more, but the drowners in the lake would kill those that try. With the fields barren, we will starve before long."  
  
"I need to see the ealdorman."  
  
She nodded. "He's expecting you outside his home."  
  
Kaneki had been sleeping fully dressed to combat the chill, so all he needed was to pull on a leather vest and some roughly-carved wooden clogs to be ready.  
  
Oreton was a quaint fishing hamlet set north of Lake Wyndamer, in Velen. Despite the early hour, most people were already awake and about. Kaneki spotted two women washing clothes by the water and a few people coming back with some fish caught near the shore.  
  
He distractedly returned a few greetings, heading straight for the ealdorman's home.  
  
The man in question was standing outside, surrounded by a crowd of people shivering in the morning air, several coughs disturbing the atmosphere.  
  
"The witch," the ealdorman said, referring to the wise woman that worked as the village's herbalist and midwife, "she tol' me I were to... edicate yous. Which I now strive to do."  
  
Kaneki pushed past Helanda, a young woman who tended to flirt with every man in sight on her quest to find a husband. She was currently covered in rashes and looking quite pale.  
  
"To keep the pox off youse," the ealdorman continued, "you're to... see to your own — what is it... hygiene. And don't drink straight from your well."  
  
"Uh?" came from a member of the audience.  
  
Exasperated, the ealdorman said: "Just wash your arse once a week and boil your water over a fire!"  
  
Kaneki gave a wry smile. He'd tried teaching the people of Oreton that very same lesson, telling them to wash their hands regularly and clean their clothes and houses more often. All that had done was brand him as a bizarre man obsessed with cleanliness. The villagers would smile at him indulgently while dismissing his advice as if he were a confused child. They'd just gone on with their ways, not believing a word he said about boiling water or cleaning oneself.  
  
At that moment, the ealdorman noticed Kaneki and smiled widely, revealing crooked teeth.  
  
"Ah! Is our own monster!" he exclaimed happily. The other people in the crowd turned around and the mood rose when they noticed Kaneki. "I need to talk to you before you start your patrol."  
  
Kaneki nodded, moving past a little boy to approach. But the boy took hold of his hand and tugged.  
  
"Mister 'Neki, Mister 'Neki, are you gonna kill all the Black Ones?"  
  
Kaneki's heart broke when he saw the child's gaunt cheeks.  
  
"The soldiers won't hurt you," he said. "I promise."  
  
The boy's mother grabbed her child. "Come on, Voytie, let's go. Ken needs to talk to Lester."  
  
The child looked at Kaneki one last time before letting himself be pulled away.  
  
The ealdorman put a hand on Kaneki's shoulder and pulled him closer to whisper:  
  
"Go to my house an' wait for me there." He then raised his voice to address everyone else, "Yous all! Go back to work! I'll... uh... organize a fishin' trip later, so we got food tonight."  
  
That garnered a cheer. While the man had to deal with some persistent people still demanding his attention, Kaneki headed to Lester's house.  
  
It was more of a hut than anything else. It consisted of only one room, with a stove and one measly fish on a cutting board, while a few sleeping mats were set nearby so people could sleep near the fire.  
  
Neither Lester's wife nor his child were present. People in Oreton were busy with work from dawn 'til dusk, and children would spend the day playing outside.  
  
It didn't even take a minute before Lester was entering the house, wiping his sweaty bangs off his face. It made his already atrocious haircut — a pageboy cut that was disturbingly popular amongst the men of Oreton — even worse.  
  
"Nordrada said you wanted to see me," Kaneki said. He was stating the obvious — an invitation for Lester to elaborate.  
  
It took a few seconds for the ealdorman to answer. When he did, it was with great regret:  
  
"The Black Ones have been gettin' worse," he announced.  
  
Kaneki inclined his head. "I heard. I know what they did to the fields."  
  
Lester shook his head sadly. "Such a waste... Those Nilfgaardians ruined all our crops..." he muttered. "It'll take years before the ground's healthy again."  
  
"Why did they burn the fields?" Kaneki asked. "Destroying the land they want to take for themselves doesn't seem very intelligent."  
  
The ealdorman snorted. "Intelligent? I wouldn't trust them to tell their arses from their heads." He pursed his lips, the tendons of his neck becoming visible as he tensed. "Boy, those ploughing soldiers have been trying to take our village for weeks, but with you around, none o' their attacks work, no matter how many men they send." He took hold of his pipe and started stuffing dry leaves in it. Once it was lit, he took a drag and relaxed. "I'm thinking we've become shameful for 'em. They've been invadin’ Velen and now just 'bout all of Temeria flies the Black Sun, except for us. All the land around us has been conquered and we're the sorry ones left, ruinin' their record." The man shrugged helplessly. "So they've decided that if they can't take us, they'll destroy us. They'll probably raid the village for valu'bles once we're all dead from hunger."  
  
Kaneki's hands had formed fists at his sides. "What about the lord?" He tried to remember the name. "Vserad? Yes, Lord Vserad. Can't you ask him for help?"  
  
With a grim smile, the ealdorman shook his head. "That man's been 'oled up in his tower since the Black Ones set foot in the area. Coward. He won't have the balls to leave that island of his until it's safe."  
  
Kaneki grimaced, wracking his mind for a solution. "Maybe I could —"  
  
"No, Ken."  
  
When the man saw the stricken look Kaneki gave him, he explained:  
  
"Your... ah... what's the word... _prodigious_ strength has kept us safe so far, but all that did is... push back the... inevitable." He was stumbling with his words. Lester had never been as eloquent and well-spoken as his father. "We can't keep on forever. At some point, we'll have to surrender."  
  
 _We shouldn't surrender,_ Kaneki wanted to say. _They'll kill us for resisting so long, make an example out of us. We should fight. I'll fight._  
  
But he said nothing. He might be able to fight on a level above ordinary humans, but the army of Nilfgaard was vast. They could just send more soldiers until he made a mistake and lost. The fact that the soldiers had destroyed the fields meant they were losing patience and ready to escalate beyond what the people of Oreton could keep up with.  
  
For Kaneki, continuing the fight wasn't a big sacrifice, as every battle ended with a meal. But for the villagers, weak from sickness and starvation, surrender might be the only option.  
  
"When?" he asked instead.  
  
The ealdorman looked out of the window, at some young children playing in a puddle and shrieking with laughter as they pelted each other with mud.  
  
"I'll wait a week. If we don't find a solution by then, we'll need to surrender before the hunger kills too many."  
  
"What will we do until then?  
  
Lester shrugged. "I dunno, Ken. This isn't as easy as my da tol' me."  
  
Lester's father had been Oreton's ealdorman until last week, when the hunger had finally won over his frail body. The hamlet had held a vote and declared Lester the next ealdorman, probably out of hope he'd be as good as his father. Before his death, Lester's father had been extremely respected, and people attributed Kaneki's arrival to him, saying Kaneki had been sent to protect Oreton on behalf of the Ladies, which Kaneki had been told were local deities.  
  
Lester himself hadn't dealt well with his father's passing or his new position. The stress was proving to be too much.  
  
The army of Nilfgaard was pushing too hard, and at some point, something was going to break.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


-x-x-x-

  
  
  
  
  
A group of ten men were assembled, Kaneki included. Most of them were in their thirties or even older, as all able-bodied men had been snapped up by Temeria's army when the kingdom had still stood a chance against the empire of Nilfgaard. Kaneki's youth made him stand out.  
  
"I prepared four boats for youse," the ealdorman said. "Use some of the rope to tie people together, make it 'arder for the drowners to take anyone. Bring back enough for us all, but get back before sundown." He glared at the group. "And if one of you idiots cuts himself again, then move yer arses before the drowners smell yous."  
  
Kaneki disagreed with Lester's decision to send so many men on this expedition. Ten men might not seem much, but considering Oreton contained between fifty and seventy people, most of them elderly people, children or women, sending ten men out to fish would cripple the hamlet's defensive force. After what the Black Ones had done to the fields, it was unlikely they'd attack Oreton so soon, but Kaneki couldn't help but worry.  
  
Someone patted him on the back. Surprised, Kaneki looked to his left. It was Graham, one of Oreton's best fishermen.  
  
"Are you all right?" the man asked.  
  
Kaneki shrugged. "I don't think it's a good idea to send so many of us away."  
  
Graham's gaze was sharp as he looked at the group of men they would accompany to Lake Wyndamer. "We won't be gone for long. With so many of us, we'll have more than enough food after an hour or two."  
  
It wasn't enough for Kaneki. He pursed his lips, but said nothing.  
  
"Besides," Graham continued, "the ealdorman's decision is final."  
  
And that was that.  
  
Since there were four boats, the group separated into two trios and two duos. Kaneki would be sharing a boat with Graham.  
  
Some people used ropes to tie themselves to their boat or the person in front of them. This was a precaution to make it harder for any hungry drowner that might try to snatch a member of their group.  
  
"Where will we be fishing?" Kaneki asked, voice low, as they set off.  
  
Graham pointed towards the island at the centre of the lake. "We're going south, closer to Fyle Isle. We'll find a lot more fish there."  
  
Oreton lay by the northern shores of Wyndamer Lake, while Fyke Isle was a small island right in the middle of the lake.  
  
One of the men in the closest boat snorted when he heard Graham's words. His name was Faulkner. He was one of the local roughs, who'd escaped conscription into Temeria's armies by playing up an old injury. "Are yeh sure that's why yer takin' us there? Methinks it has more to do with the lord's beautiful daughter." The word 'lord' was said with a sneer.  
  
Graham's face turned an amusing shade of red. "What?!" he spluttered. "How do you know that?!"  
  
He hadn't even bothered denying it.  
  
Faulkner smirked in response. "Don't think we haven't noticed yeh sailing out there and coming back lookin' like Melitele herself gave yeh a kiss." Some of the other men nodded knowingly, chuckling at Graham's face. Someone even whistled suggestively.  
  
Too mortified to answer, Graham just looked away.  
  
"I bet she's been feeding you real nice," said another person, this one a teenager called Finch that hadn't been drafted because of his lame foot. He looked skeletal, his gaunt cheeks exposing his cheekbones to the point that his face was reminiscent of a skull. As a boy orphaned in the war who now had to provide for his sister, it was clear he hadn't been dealt the best hand in life.  
  
Graham wrung his hands. "They barely have enough to feed themselves over there."  
  
The adolescent scoffed. "Riiight. Everyone knows the lord and his daughter hid there like cowards, taking all the food with them and leaving us to starve," spat Finch. "And apparently they have a pet sorcerer in that tower too, and he's been abductin' people like us for his foul deeds! They're all thieves and monsters over there, livin' off the hard work of us honest folk!"  
  
Just about everyone was listening in on the conversation now, and people were nodding or looking at Graham, eager for his response.  
  
The man in question remained unmoved. "You know better than to believe rumours and lies. The lord took Anabelle to Fyke so she'd be safe from the Black Ones. Lord Vserad isn't lucky enough to have someone like Ken to protect his family."  
  
That remark worked as intended. The men looked at Kaneki, their protector, and remembered that without him they'd have been invaded by Nilfgaard long ago, or they'd have fled to safety like Lord Vserad did, like countless refugees all across Velen had already done, however cowardly flight might seem.  
  
Finch grunted, reticent to concede the point. "If it's as you say, then why don't they allow anyone in the tower? We've got women and children who could be sheltered there. And now that our fields are barren anyways, can't we rebuild Oreton on Fyke Isle, around the lord's tower? There's strength in numbers! An' if we rebuild there, Ken would protect the whole island, so the lord would pay a protection fee and give us some of tha' food of his!"  
  
"A protection tax!" someone said with a chortle, happy the taxed might become the taxer.  
  
The group cheered loudly at that, drowning out Graham's plainitive response:  
  
"But they don't have enough food to give away!"  
  
Kaneki observed the situation silently.  
  
"We could go there already!" someone exclaimed. "Tell him we're rebuilding our village there and he gotta pay us! And that way Graham can live with his lass and marry her!"  
  
"And they'll give us food!" said Faulkner, much too loudly considering they were sailing on a lake filled with man-eating creatures.  
  
The notion of food had everyone in a frenzy. Without Graham's words being heeded, it was decided they'd head straight for Fyke Isle, as surely, if they acquired food from there they'd be able to sail home earlier and avoid hours of fishing.  
  
Graham tried to protest, to repeat his earlier words. No one listened.  
  
Kaneki did not say a word. He'd learnt early on that the people of Oreton were stubborn and that he couldn't dissuade them once they'd set their hearts on something. Protesting too loudly would only cause their gratitude to be overshadowed by their annoyance, and their inherent dislike of monsters would return. They'd forget, in the moment, how hard Kaneki had worked to protect them.  
  
So Kaneki said nothing. Instead he watched, silent and patient, as the men sailed towards the island in the middle of the lake.  
  
  
  



	2. Lord Vserad's Tower

The moment the group arrived at the island's shores, Kaneki was given an order:  
  
"Stay here and guard the boats while we talk to the lord!"  
  
He would have liked to believe there was a good reason for the order, that the men were truly worried about the boats and the possibility of theft, but he knew better. The men wanted him to stay behind because they were well aware he had strong morals in spite of his diet. Kaneki knew these men well enough to guess they weren't planning on being very polite with Lord Vserad, and they didn't want Kaneki to stop them.  
  
Graham looked conflicted, but in the end he followed the group, leaving Kaneki behind. The men briskly headed towards the tower where the lord and his daughter dwelled.  
  
Kaneki concentrated on tying the boats to one of the scraggly trees growing along the shore. The rope was just long enough to allow it.  
  
By the time the men, Graham included, were gone from sight and undoubtedly knocking on the lord's door, Kaneki had tied all the boats up and hidden the fishing equipment in a nearby bush in case an ambitious thief were to appear. The risk of theft was minimal, yet it never hurt to be prepared.  
  
He was left to stand in the chilly morning air, surveilling the area with his arms crossed.  
  
The island wasn't anything special. It was covered sparsely by thin trees and only Lord Vserad along with his family and few retainers lived there. The most activity Fyke Isle ever saw was on All Father's Eve, a yearly ritual in which people from all surrounding villages sailed to Fyke to gather in its large circular praying ground, which consisted of stone ruins from an ancient elven building. There they'd pray for a peaceful afterlife for their deceased relatives.  
  
The rest of the year, no one set foot here. While the island was large enough for Oreton to be rebuilt on it, it didn't have the necessary space to grow the amount of crops needed to be self-sufficient. They'd have to rely on fishing and trade for other foods.  
  
However, the natural protection the island offered more than made up for its deficiencies. It was in the middle of a lake that Nilfgaard's armies didn't currently have the ships to cross. And when they would inevitably build ships to attack the people of Oreton who had dared to resist invasion so long, all Kaneki would have to do would be to throw meat in the water and all the drowners in the lake would take notice. They'd swim over and attack the ships in search of food.  
  
Fyke Isle was more defensible than Oreton. Even though no one had been that serious about moving, Kaneki hoped they would. The fields around Oreton had been made barren by the invaders and staying in place would bring nothing but a slow death by hunger.  
  
Barely ten minutes after the group of men had left, a scent made itself known. Had Kaneki been human, he would not have noticed. The smell reminded him of rust. Metal.  
  
His left eye, hidden under the fringe he'd grown long just to hide it, was itching.  
  
He frowned, focusing on the tall tower in the distance, with only its upper half visible over the canopy of trees.  
  
At that moment, a scream pierced the air, muffled by the distance.  
  
Kaneki's eyes narrowed. Without hesitation, he shot forward in a burst of superhuman speed. His back tingled in preparation for a fight. His eye was burning, and he knew it had turned monstrous as his kakugan appeared.  
  
He arrived to a scene of horror. The door of the tower had been forced open, and a pretty maid lay bloody on the floor, screaming while some men atop her were... were...  
  
The rage was such that in an instant, Kaneki's kagune had emerged from his back. The three pairs of scaly red limbs hit the two men with such force that they fell unconscious with the sharp _crack_ of bones breaking. It was a miracle he'd had the restraint to leave them alive.  
  
The woman was rapidly bleeding out from a stomach wound and was desperately trying to cover herself back up. When Kaneki stepped forward to try and help her, she flinched. She wrapped a hand around the wound and crawled backwards, trembling as she beheld Kaneki's additional limbs.  
  
The message was clear.  
  
Trying to not let it affect him, Kaneki headed up the stairs.  
  
On the upper level of the tower he encountered five more men from Oreton. They'd killed the servants and were in the process of looting everything in sight.  
  
The sheer amount of disgust and anger Kaneki felt at that moment was... **indescribable.  
**  
He had long become accustomed to living in a medieval world with all the barbaric practices that entailed. Violence and death were everyday occurences here, and living in Velen for a year had done more to make him accept his ghoulish tendencies than working at Anteiku every had. It probably helped that the villagers didn't mind his diet as long as he only aimed his attention at bandits and Nilfgaardians, of which there was an abundant supply.  
  
But this? Attacking unprovoked? Killing and pillaging? There was a line, and the men of Oreton had crossed it.  
  
Kaneki caught the first one with two of his kagune and threw him across the room. The man hit a wall and slid down with a dazed moan.  
  
The four others turned to Kaneki and when they saw who it was, their eyes grew wide.  
  
"Ploughing hell!" one exclaimed.  
  
Kaneki just _looked_ at them. The sight of his scarlet iris with black sclera contrasted vividly with his other eye, which remained normal. The fact that his eye had transformed made the men flinch. They knew it only happened when he was emotional or extremely hungry.  
  
"Ya supposed tah be with the boats!" a man shouted.  
  
"We was just takin' back what the lord took from us! We wasn't stealin'!" another justified.  
  
A part of Kaneki felt achingly homesick at that moment. He had never particularly wished to return to Japan, to a life where he would be hunted down by CCG investigators for the crime of his existence. But at least in Japan, things like looting and rape were seen as crimes worth punishment, instead of a sad inevitability of life. He had never thought of the average twenty-first century men as gentlemen, but compared to people living in this medieval society, they were as close to saints as you could get.  
  
Everyone was always saying that the current generation was rude and disrespectful, that things used to be better, there used to be less crime, the world was circling the drain... Stuck in the nostalgia of the past, many forgot that every period had its negative and positives, and was trying to do better than the one that came before it. The twenty-first century was one of the best places to live in. Well, it had been. Kaneki's home was out of reach, now. He wasn't that sad about it. At least in Velen he had the opportunity to start over.  
  
"You are coming with me to stop the others," Kaneki told the men firmly. He had no idea what to do with them, but he knew it was a bad idea to leave them to their own devices. "And then..." He stopped to think. "We'll take you back to Oreton so the ealdorman can judge your crimes."  
  
The men blanched. With good reason, too, as Lester was known to hate theft just as much as his late father, and was known to respect women a great deal. For what had been done to the maid downstairs and the havoc wrought by these five men, the punishment would be harsh. They might even be exiled from Oreton, stuck between the outskirts of the hamlet and the army surrounding it.  
  
"You can't order us around!" one of the men blustered. "We ain't listening to you! You... You monster!"  
  
Kaneki's expression went flat.  
  
They were content to praise him as a protector sent by the Ladies until the very moment he became a problem, at which point they suddenly changed their minds. No matter. The only one whose opinion counted was the ealdorman, as he ruled over Oreton.  
  
"The only monsters in this room are you," he said, toneless. And then, using the six flexible limbs that had sprouted from his back, he pushed the men towards the stairs leading upwards.  
  
"We ain't going up there!" one of them protested, pushing against Kaneki's kagune. "That's where the sorcerer is! They say he likes cursing villages with plagues for fun! Who knows what he'll do if we go up there!"  
  
Kaneki raised his kagune threateningly, silencing all complaints.  
  
"Start walking," he ordered.  
  
They obeyed, however reluctant.  
  
On the higher level they discovered a hidden passage that lay wide open. It gave access to yet another stairwell, leading to what Kaneki presumed to be the attic. He could hear sobbing coming from there.  
  
With narrowed eyes, Kaneki told the men: "Wait here and don't move. If you run, I'll hunt you down myself."  
  
He didn't wait for a response. With a burst of unnatural speed, he just about flew up the stairs. He took five steps at a time in large leaps and burst into the room upstairs.  
  
Kaneki had arrived just in time to pull a finely-clad man away from the trajectory of an axe.  
  
"Oof!" the man exclaimed, his back knocking into Kaneki's chest.  
  
He was dressed in expensive brocade that spoke of obvious wealth and his skin was too pale to have been outside much. He had curly black hair that was greying at the temples and wore glasses, something too expensive for most people of this time period. This man was either Lord Vserad or the lord's mage.  
  
As for the villager who'd tried to take an axe to the wealthy man's head, he had turned milk-white the instant he noticed Kaneki had come to the rescue, his pupils shrinking and his hands trembling.  
  
Kaneki's arrival had frozen the entire room. Graham was on the floor, crying as he held the corpse of a young woman while another villager stood over a shaking man whose queer clothes indicated he might be the mysterious mage Kaneki had heard about.  
  
The room itself seemed to be some sort of laboratory, although a distinctively old-fashioned one in Kaneki's opinion. There were jars filled with dubious mixtures on dirty shelves, papers nailed to the wall and covered in the local writing Kaneki couldn't read.  
  
While he'd been taught the local language, he remained illiterate as this world used a writing system that didn't exist back in Kaneki's world. Unable to read, he could only guess was was written on the mage's notes.  
  
But what truly caught Kaneki's attention were the cylindrical glass containers set against the walls, connected to large tubes. The containers were filled with a gelatinous substance, and floating in it were... human corpses.  
  
Kaneki bit the inside of his cheek, anger simmering under the surface of his blank expression. Blood filled his mouth, and the disgusting taste of it distracted him enough to regain his self control.  
  
"What is going on here?" he demanded. He kept a tight grip on the man he had saved, the one who was probably Vserad, the Lord of Velen, the region in which Oreton was situated. The dead woman Graham was clutching had to be the lord's daughter, the one Graham had been sweet on.  
  
The old man standing over the shivering mage spat, staring fearlessly at Kaneki despite his monstrous left eye and the six scaly red limbs emerging from his back.  
  
"Look at this place!" the old villager exclaimed. "It's where the people disappeared at! Those rumours that got everyone afeared were true! The mage has been stealin' people to use witchcraft on 'em!"  
  
The mage spluttered, annoyance overcoming fear. "My work will save thousands of lives by creating a cure for the Catriona Plague, you uncultured simpleton. All these—"  
  
The mage trailed off, as he had finally turned and seen what Kaneki looked like. His horrified expression was enough to make Lord Vserad curious. The man turned in Kaneki's grip and yelped when he caught sight of his frightening rescuer.  
  
"Yer a killer!" the old man from Oreton shouted at the mage, but the subject of his insults was too distracted by Kaneki to pay him much mind. Angry at being ignored, the old man moved to hit the mage again.  
  
Kaneki was faster. Pulling a tense Lord Vserad along with him, he took two steps forward and his kagune bridged the gap that remained. The limbs lashed out, slapping the assailant's hand away and pushing him to the side.  
  
In the meanwhile, Lord Vserad remained stiff in Kaneki's grip, visibly trembling after catching sight of the young man's inhuman features.  
  
"What are you?" the lord asked, his tone breathy and hesitant.  
  
Kaneki ignored him.  
  
"It doesn't matter if the mage was justified or not," he told the room at large. "It was wrong of us to invade these people's home, to kill and to rape."  
  
That wasn't exactly what he had said. While he had been taught well enough to speak the local language, 'rape' was not a word he'd been taught. He didn't have a polite term for 'sex' either, to try and say 'non-consensual sex', and the only word for the act that he knew was a curse word learnt through listening to everyday conversations. So instead of saying 'rape', Kaneki said something along the lines of 'forceful ploughing'.  
  
Lord Vserad's nose wrinkled in disgust at the use of profanity.  
  
"We shall be going back to Oreton," Kaneki continued, "and once I tell the ealdorman about your crimes he'll decide your punishment."  
  
"But the mage!" someone protested. "He's the one behind all those missing people from Drudge and the Byways! He's been using his sorcery on them!"  
  
Kaneki shook the noble in his grip. "Lord Vserad, did you know what your mage was doing?"  
  
The lord looked frantic. "No, no! His laboratory is off limits! I never came up here, I swear!"  
  
Kaneki wasn't sure he believed the man. The mage couldn't have been doing human experimentation here without the lord giving permission first or at least being aware of what was happening. But Lord Vserad wasn't dumb enough to admit being complicit in these horrors even if he was aware or had condoned them, so there wasn't much Kaneki could do. Except...  
  
"Then would you allow us to bring the mage back with us, so that he can be judged for his actions?"  
  
The lord narrowed his eyes, strangely brave despite Kaneki's ghoulish appearance. "Why should I entrust Alexander to the people who killed my servants?!" He tried to rip himself out of Kaneki's grip and failed.  
  
Kaneki was more focused on the man's words than the way he tried to escape. The man had mentioned the people of Oreton had killed the servants, yes, but what about his daughter? Her corpse was lying barely three meters away, held by Graham, and Lord Vserad seemed to have forgotten about her to the point that he would rather blame the invaders for killing his staff than his own daughter. What had the young woman's name been, again? Annabelle?  
  
Could the man truly be so heartless? Or was Kaneki missing some key information?  
  
Lord Vserad tried once again to pull Kaneki's hand off his clothing and couldn't get it to budge. "Did they sell their souls to buy your services, demon?!"  
  
Kaneki sighed.  
  
He was tired. Tired of missing sleep because he had to protect Oreton from the Nilfgaardian invaders. Tired of killing bandits and Black Ones and having the villagers congratulate him whenever he came back with blood on his hands, a full stomach and a guilty conscience. Tired of living in a place where if a child got lost in the woods, their parents wouldn't bother searching, knowing their offspring was most likely dead already.  
  
It was a place where rape and murder was common, and most people were not educated or held to a higher moral standard, thus they turned more easily to crime. More than anything, Kaneki was disappointed by the acts of the men he had sailed to Fyke with, the men he had protected and trusted during his stay in Oreton.  
  
Kaneki just wanted someone else to untangle this mess. He hated making decisions because the pressure was just too much.  
  
"Since Lord Vserad doesn't want to allow us to take his mage back to Oreton with us, I guess we'll be bringing _everyone_ on this island back to the hamlet. The ealdorman will decide what to do with you all."  
  
The mage seemed to accept it, but Lord Vserad frowned at Kaneki, opening his mouth to protest.  
  
 _"No,"_ said Kaneki sharply and one of his scaly kagune wrapped itself around the man's mouth, gagging him. Lord Vserad turned a faint shade of green. After a second spent staring the man down, Kaneki removed his limb. Lord Vserad no longer seemed interested in saying anything.  
  
"You will all follow me and do as I say," Kaneki told the room at large.  
  
Silence.  
  
"Understood?"  
  
There were faint grumbles from the audience, except for Lord Vserad who was frantically nodding, not eager to be on Kaneki's bad side.  
  
"Good."  
  
Kaneki gave the room at large a satisfied look and headed back down to where the rest of the men of Oreton should be waiting.

"Follow me."


	3. The Black Ones

It was still relatively early when the large group returned. They were supposed to spend the entire day fishing, but instead they had attacked Lord Vserad's home and Kaneki had been forced to bring everyone back to Oreton for judgement.  
  
Kaneki couldn't wait to offload this difficult situation onto the earldorman's shoulders. While he hated crime and wanted to see the men punished for crimes they had committed, he was too emotional to handle this rationally. Seeing the men he had been protecting for months, the men he had _trusted_ , commit such horrible acts was too much for him.

The betrayal felt worse than that time he had gone on a date with a girl and it had turned out she was a ghoul intent on eating him. This time, the betrayal was so much more personal because he _knew_ these men. They had helped him fight off bandits and Nilfgaardian soldiers. Some of them had contributed to teaching him the local language. They had cared for him, and in return he had cared for them.  
  
And the worst part of it all, the most emotionally devastating part, was that as Kaneki had been leaving the tower with the large group of people, he had seen the still body of the attractive servant that had been... violated. In his haste to stop the villagers from hurting anyone else, he had completely forgotten about her. So while Kaneki had been upstairs talking with Lord Vserad and his mage, the traumatised young woman had slowly bled out, terrified and alone.  
  
It had killed any desire of handling the entire situation around the assault on Fyke Isle. He just wanted to hide in his room and rest while the ealdorman saw to the punishments.  
  
He just... could not deal with this anymore.  
  
Unfortunately, the universe was not granting him any clemency today. The moment the boats were close enough to Oreton, it became obvious that the fishing hamlet was under attack.  
  
"The Nilf' bastards are invading again!" cried one of the men in Kaneki's boat.  
  
Indeed, men in armour were gutting civilians and pillaging the village. They wore a golden sun on their black armour, proclaiming their allegiance to the Nilfgaardian Empire.  
  
"They must had seen us leave the village!" Kaneki exclaimed, watching a soldier strike down an old woman with a slash of his sword. "They're trying to raze the village when it has less people to defend it!"  
  
Thus started a mad scramble as everyone began desperately grasping the oars to paddle towards Oreton. Some even jumped out of their boats to swim to shore instead. Kaneki was one of them.  
  
He stood, his additional pair of red limbs emerging from the middle of his back with a slick ripping sound. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the cold waters.  
  
Within seconds he had overtaken the other swimmers, using his long red kagune to propel himself at incredible speeds.  
  
He emerged at the shore with a great splash, water sluicing down his body. Kaneki smacked the closest invader with superhuman strength. With half a pulverized face, the soldier could only emit a pained gurgle before Kaneki finished him off.  
  
Something within Kaneki had been unleashed. The betrayal of the Oreton men, that poor maid's death and now the invasion of his home? He could feel his self-control fracturing as his ghoul side took over.  
  
He had not known how to handle the events at Fyke Isle, but this? This was _easy_. Everyone knew that you dealt with an invasion by **killing all the invaders.  
**  
With an angry cry, Kaneki caught a Black One with a vicious uppercut, sending him flying in the air with a cracked jaw. A kagune finished the job, the limb piercing the man through the abdomen as he fell back down. Kaneki was drenched in blood. His tongue darted out to taste a droplet on his upper lip. It was so enjoyable that his left eye changed, transforming into a nightmarish one befitting a monster. A black sclera with a luminous crimson iris replaced his normal dark brown eye.  
  
By now, the Nilfgaardians had noticed him and were shouting warnings:  
  
"The monster's back! Kill it!"  
  
 _I'll murder you all_ , thought Kaneki with a giggle, using his red limbs to jump forth like a grasshopper.  
  
He landed between a hysterical Nordrada and one of the soldiers. Kaneki pushed the Black One backwards and one of his kagune perforated the man's pelvis and emerged out of the neck. The impalement wasn't enough to immediately kill the soldier, although there was no possible way he could survive long with such a wound.  
  
Kaneki's next move was to have his burdened kagune lash out towards a Nilfgaardian well out of his range. The momentum sent the body sliding off the limb and flying at the faraway Nilfgaardian, crashing into him.  
  
Kaneki brought his red limb close, eyeing the gore covering it with disturbing intensity.  
  
"Ken!" Nordrada exclaimed. "Oh sweet Melitele, I hadn't dared hope! The soldiers have overrun the village and—"  
  
Kaneki wasn't listening. He was too far gone for coherency and it was a miracle he could still distinguish friend from foe.  
  
By now, the other men that were back from Fyke Isle had reached the shore and joined the fight with a furious roar, throwing themselves at the invaders with frenzy.  
  
Kaneki licked at one of his scaly kagune and his lips quirked up when he tasted the blood coating the limb.  
  
He lazily observed his surroundings, hearing only muffled screams and shouts, his body focused only on the explosion of taste in his mouth. That was, of course, until he caught sight of a Nilfgaardian who'd just killed little Voytie's mother and was about to do the same with the child.  
  
They were too far away to reach in time, so instead Kaneki bent down and scooped up some mud. He straightened, aimed, and _threw.  
_  
The ball of mud hit the Black One right in the eyes, blinding him long enough for Kaneki to close the distance and slap him face with a kagune. The man's nose caved in and he crumpled to the ground, inert.  
  
Kaneki looked around for more enemies, too deep in his battle rage to notice the little boy sniffling next to him, clutching desperately at the corpse of his mother.  
  
But there was no one else to fight. The men of Oreton had managed to finish off the rest of the soldiers, and several women were hard at work trying to put out the fire devouring one of the houses.  
  
The ground was littered with bodies. Lord Vserad and the mage were still in one of the boats, and it looked like Vserad was trying to row back to Fyke Isle before anyone noticed.  
  
Kaneki blinked rapidly, his body slowly cooling down as his adrenaline level lowered. Awareness was coming back as his beserker state receded.  
  
His mind was blank, incapable of intelligent thought. Only one thing was going through his mind:  
  
 _I'm hungry.  
  
  
_

-x-x-x-

Lester shook his head sadly once Kaneki had finished explaining what had happened on Fyke Isle.  
  
"Normally," explained the ealdorman, "they'd be punished by execushion or exile. Bu' we need ev'ry person we have to protect Oreton."  
  
Indeed, they'd been strapped for men for a while now and today's attack by the Nilfgaardians had not helped. Luckily, only four villagers had died before Kaneki had dealt with the invaders, but that was still four victims too many.  
  
So while the villagers were burying the dead and repairing damaged buildings, Lester and Kaneki were planning the next course of action.  
  
"I could take over their part of the work," proposed Kaneki. "I'm stronger and faster, so I could do their jobs easily. That way they can be punished."  
  
Kaneki didn't particularly want the men dead for their crimes, but imprisoning them was not something the village had the resources for. And since Kaneki did not want murderers and rapists to roam freely in Oreton, having them exiled or killed made the most sense in a cold, utilitarian kind of way.  
  
Back in Tokyo, he would never have been in favour of capital punishment, but the time spent in Velen had changed him more than Jason's painful ‘hospitality’ ever had.  
  
"We need people tah guard the village while you sleep," said Lester, shaking his head. "Wha' about that mage you brough' back? Can he help protect us?"  
  
Kaneki remembered those glass containers he had seen on Fyke, with the bodies of innocent people stored within. "That man can't be trusted."  
  
The ealdorman nodded, expression grave. "Then we don't got no choice. We don't have a lot of food and we'll be starving soon." He paused, lips pursed and chin trembling. "We've gotta submit to the Black Ones."  
  
"No."  
  
"Ken—"  
  
"They wanted to kill every single villager today!" Kaneki exclaimed. "If I hadn't returned early, Oreton would've been razed! If you submit now, the Nilfgaardians wil come finish the job to make an example out of us! The soldiers won't spare the village that has fought back longer than the country it belongs to!"  
  
Lester's face twisted.  
  
Kaneki continued, his voice soft and pleading, "You told me this morning that the Black Ones want to destroy us, not just take over. Surrendering isn't possible. They'll kill everyone."  
  
"I also said tha' I'd give up in a week anyway," pointed out the ealdorman. "We don't have no food." His chin hadn't stopped trembling since he'd announced his intention to submit. "I'm afeared, Ken. Me wife and me have been starvin' ourselves to feed our lad, and every day I think it'll be our last." He shook his head. "We can't go on like this."  
  
"Then let's escape, leave Oreton."  
  
"Tah go where? The Black Ones have us surrounded! We could take the boats 'n' escape through the lake, but all o' Velen belongs to those blasted Nilfs! There's nowhere to go."  
  
That remark stumped Kaneki.  
  
He knew that he could easily escape on his own and attempt to remake his life elsewhere. But he'd come to care for the people of Oreton, who knew what he was and what he ate and yet accepted him anyway, if only for the protection he offered. Kaneki didn't want to leave them behind.  
  
"But we still can't just give up," he argued. "We can't—"  
  
He couldn't bring himself to say more.  
  
But the ealdorman wasn't defeated. In fact, he seemed determined.  
  
"Got an idea," he said.  
  
There was a moment of silence as Kaneki waited expectantly while the ealdorman searched for the right words.  
  
"You're strong, Ken," began Lester, words slow and thoughtful. "The only thing stoppin' those ploughing soldiers from killing us all… is you. You go’ a reputation now, as the monster of Oreton. The Nilfs are scared of you 'cause they know what you do with those you kill."  
  
That was a bit of an overstatement. If Kaneki frightened the soldiers that much, then they would have stopped their attacks on the village. Instead, every time he massacred whatever they sent his way, it only bolstered their determination.  
  
"I don't think they're _that_ scared," said Kaneki.  
  
Lester rolled his eyes. "Yer a man-eatin' monster, Ken, of course they're scared."  
  
Kaneki flinched.  
  
In spite of all the people he had killed to protect Oreton, being told his nature to his face sometimes still hurt him and made him long for the days when he had been human. The mindset of the soft person he had been was still there, a soft centre buried beneath the layers of flesh and blood belonging to a ghoul.  
  
"We'll bargain with them," continued Lester, oblivious to the effect of his words on Kaneki. "We can surrender and tell them that if they attack us anyway, yer gonna kill 'em all."  
  
Kaneki sighed. "I don't think that will—"  
  
He was interrupted by the sound of screams coming from outside.  
  
Cursing in Japanese, Kaneki sprinted out of Lester's house, his back tingling in preparation for a fight. Strangely enough, the screams came from two people near the beach of all places, leading him to believe the attackers were not Nilfgaardias. It had to be drowners instead, who had smelt blood and left the water in search of prey.  
  
Even worse, the boats that had been left on the shore by Kaneki, Graham and the others contained the bodies of those who had died on Fyke Isle, including Lord Vserad's daughter. Kaneki did not want to tell the lord that he hadn't been fast enough to prevent drowners from devouring the corpse of his daughter.  
  
But after stopping right outside Lester's home to assess the situation outside, Kaneki saw... nothing. No drowners. Instead, two washerwomen were clutching each other, staring at someone who was leaning over one of the boats floating gently near the shore. A closer examination revealed the person to be Alexander, the mage working for Lord Vserad.  
  
Kaneki gritted his teeth, glaring at the scene. He refused to let a man who had done unethical human experimentation anywhere near those corpses. Who knew what the mage might do?  
  
So Kaneki jumped off the railing of the wooden passageway that connected every house in Oreton and landed in the mud, his feet sinking down until they were no longer visible.  
  
Just like most of the villagers, he wore no shoes, which allowed him the dubious pleasure of feeling slimy mud between his toes and the occasional sharp rock that couldn't hope to pierce the skin of a ghoul. It was not exactly pleasant, but he did not have the money to buy shoes.  
  
He stomped over to the two washerwoman, each step he took making repugnant squelching sounds.  
  
"What's he doing?" he asked, knowing better than to jump into a situation before gathering all the facts.  
  
The woman to the left shook her head. "I don't—"  
  
At that moment, Alexander straightened, revealing the body he had been examining to be Lord Vserad's daughter.  
  
Not even a second later, the corpse rose, making a loud groaning sound.

When the body moved, some of the surrounding women shrieked. Kaneki placed himself in front of them, calculating the best way to handle this.  
  
He had fought ghouls, drowners, and various other supernatural creatures that had been mythical in his world and very real in this one. However, he had never dealt with anything that had come back from the dead. Was this a zombie, whose bite could transform others into the undead as well? Or was it just a moving corpse with the same strength as it had had in life, which would pose no threat to Kaneki whatsoever?  
  
Around a month ago, Kaneki had dealt with a ghost, but that was the closest he had come to one of the undead. Kaneki didn’t know how powerful Lady Anabelle’s corpse was, so he couldn’t rush blindly into battle. He was acutely aware of the fact that if he died, Oreton would be left defenceless against Nilfgaard’s armies.  
  
Alexander, Lord Vserad’s mage, was within striking distance of the revenant and didn’t seem to have processed the danger, acting entirely too calm.  
  
Kaneki shot forward, his superhuman strength leaving deep footprints in his wake, and grabbed Alexander. He pulled him to a spot several metres away in a matter of moments, careful to avoid giving the man whiplash.  
  
The corpse didn’t do anything; it just swayed in place.  
  
“Send the others to safety,” ordered Kaneki. He pushed Alexander towards the frightened washerwomen. “I’ll handle this zombie.”  
  
“Zomb— What?” asked Alexander in bewilderment. “There’s nothing dangerous about Anabelle. I gave her a draught to mimic a death-like state so you people would think her a corpse and not hurt her when you broke into the tower.” Alexander glared at Kaneki, lumping the young man with said attackers. “She only just came back to herself.”  
  
Indeed, a closer look showed Anabelle was healthy, if a bit confused, currently rubbing her eyes slowly.  
  
“Anabelle!”  
  
Kaneki’s eyes flicked to the side. A group of armed villagers had appeared, evidently attracted by the screams of the frightened washerwomen. The one who had called out was Graham. He held a long knife, more threatening than the pitchforks and brooms of the rest of the men.  
  
Anabelle looked at the man blearily. “Graham?”  
  
Dropping his knife, Graham ran over and embraced her, nearly pulling her out of the boat and onto the muddy shore.  
  
“How are you alive?” he asked in a quaver.  
  
While the tearful reunion continued, the other villagers calmed down and returned to their previous activities. A few remained nearby, still eyeing Anabelle warily.  
  
More armed men showed up, having not realised the danger was gone. Among them was Lester, the ealdorman.  
  
“What’s wrong?” asked Lester, approaching Kaneki.  
  
“Nothing,” Kaneki said.  
  
Lester looked around and confirmed that there was, indeed, nothing dangerous happening.  
  
“Do you have time to talk?” asked Lester. “I finally have a plan on how to give up safely withou’ the Black Ones bothering us.”  
  
“Not here,” said Kaneki. There were too many people within earshot.  
  
They headed towards the outskirts of the village, near one of the hastily-erected barriers made of wooden planks serving as protection from outside attacks. Lester sat down on the grass and after a pause, Kaneki joined him.  
  
“I’ve talked with Samer,” said Lester.  
  
Samer was a merchant who had passed through Oreton a lot before the war, from what Kaneki had been told. When Nilfgaard began invading the region of Velen, the man decided to stay in Oreton, as it was the only place that was capable of consistently keeping out the Black Ones.  
  
“I asked him if he could be the one talkin’ with the Nilfs,” continued the ealdorman.  
  
Kaneki raised his eyebrows.  
  
“Samer’s good at hagglin’ and convincin’,” explained Lester. “He said no, so that was useless. I talked with the lord next, even if he’s a bleedin’ coward who hid on an island while the rest of us were dying, and he agreed to talk with the Black Ones.”  
  
That was surprising. Considering how obsessed Lord Vserad was with his continued survival, putting himself in danger for the sake of a village he couldn’t care less about made no sense.  
  
“Why aren’t you the one negotiating our surrender?” asked Kaneki.  
  
Lester shook his head. “I’d be shit at it. I’m not good at saying no, and I dunno how to act. If they say no to our demands or ask more of us, I wouldn’t know how to make ‘em do what we want.”  
  
Very true. Lester had trouble holding his ground in a negotiation and tended to give in too easily.  
  
“So we’re relying on Lord Vserad?”  
  
Lester grimaced. “I know. That’s why I want you to go with him. You keep an eye on that snake and make sure he doesn’t sell us out to save ‘imself.” He hesitated. “I want you to go out first, ‘cause the Nilfs don’t have weapons that can cut you. Then you tell ‘em we wanna talk about givin’ up, and if it’s safe you can call the lord over to start the talking and, uh, negotiatin’.”  
  
That still left a problem that had been raised before; the possibility of betrayal.  
  
“What if they let us surrender, promise they won’t take revenge on us for the soldiers we killed, and then attack Oreton anyway while our guard is down and we think we’re safe?”  
  
Lester nodded and leaned in. “Here’s what I was thinkin’...”  
  
He explained what he had in mind and what it required of Kaneki. After some hesitation, Kaneki agreed. Then the two of them planned out the negotiation, preparing concessions ahead of time if the Nilfgaardians wanted more than what was promised at first. They put a few hard limits and outlined the various ways the negotiation over Oreton’s surrender could go. After an hour of intense discussion, the plan was set and the details were communicated to Lord Vserad.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're looking for more of my content to read, check out my other stories. I've written other fics for the Witcher fandom, and I've also written for Scum Villain's Self-Saving System, Nier: Automata, Harry Potter, Miraculous Ladybug and more! 
> 
> Don't forget to leave a kudos before you go, and if you're feeling particularly generous, post a comment with your thoughts on the chapter, be they good or bad. I also love constructive criticism, so if you see something that could be improved, don't hesitate to speak up.


	4. Surrendering to Nilfgaard

Kaneki walked out of Oreton with a hood covering his distinctive hair and his hands raised in front of him, showing he had no weapons. He didn’t exactly need a weapon to be dangerous, but then again his gesture was mostly symbolic.  
  
Sure enough, after a few seconds of him walking towards the troops encircling Oreton, the Nilfgaardians noticed him. Blades were raised, and a commanding voice called out:  
  
“Halt. Who goes there?”  
  
Kaneki stopped. “Ken, of Oreton.”  
  
He’d learned a while ago to avoid using ‘Kaneki’. The name was too foreign for people to pronounce correctly or even remember. His first name was easier to use.  
  
There was some hushed whispering after his answer, but no more questions.  
  
Kaneki took a step closer. “I’m here to—”  
  
But the movement incited panic, and one of the archers jerked. An arrow flew, pierced Kaneki’s clothes and broke against his skin, unable to penetrate. The arrow hung from his shirt limply, while the arrowhead fell to the ground. The way the arrow hung made it look like Kaneki had been hit, when it fact it was just being held up by the fabric of Kaneki’s shirt.  
  
Unperturbed, Kaneki continued: “I’ve come to discuss terms.”  
  
The soldiers exchanged glances. Some snickered. One shouted back:  
  
“Oreton’s fucked! You think you can come ‘ere all high ‘n’ mighty and expect us to let you pass?”  
  
The jeers grew louder.  
  
“All of you are gonna die!” another soldier added, sneering.  
  
Kaneki just waited for the volume to die down before talking again:  
  
“Oreton has sent me over to begin talks. Take me to your commander.”  
  
Someone waved their halberd threateningly towards Kaneki, taking a menacing step forward. “Yeah, right. With that wound, you’ll bleed out in a few minutes.”  
  
A small burst of impatience shot through Kaneki. This wasn’t going according to plan.  
  
“I came here in good faith, hoping you’d meet my expectations,” he said, trying to find a way to appeal to their pride without sounding too insulting. “Are you going to prove me wrong?”  
  
The laughing stopped. Judging from their expressions, the words had successfully got their attention. The soldier with the halberd came closer, nearly within reach.  
  
“What the ploughing hell makes you think we care about a man from a village that has been killing my friends for weeks?” He thrust his weapon at Kaneki.  
  
That was the moment Kaneki’s patience ran out.  
  
He grasped the sharp end of the weapon and pulled. The soldier tripped forward. Archers reacted, shooting at Kaneki.  
  
The arrows had no effect. This time, noticeably so. Exclamations of surprise came from the troops. Kaneki ignored them and grabbed the breastplate of the man with the halberd, pulling him up until the man’s legs were dangling in the air. In Kaneki’s other hand was the halberd.  
  
Gazing emptily at the flabbergasted soldiers, Kaneki said: “I’ll give you to the count of five.” He ignored the man wriggling in his grasp. “One… Two...”  
  
One-hundred… Ninety-three… Eighty-six… Seventy-nine… Seventy-two…  
  
Once again, the soldiers didn’t react obediently as Kaneki had been expecting.  
  
“Let go of him, you bastard!”  
  
“Put him down!”  
  
“I’ll kill you!”  
  
Everyone was riled up and shouting. Even the man Kaneki was carrying one-handed had a sudden burst of fearlessness and hit Kaneki with a mailed fist. It didn’t hurt, but it did dislodge the hood covering Kaneki’s unusual white hair and foreign eye-shape.  
  
When the man in his grasp saw Kaneki’s features, he panicked. “It’s the Spider! It’s that damned Spider!”  
  
‘Spider?’ Kaneki wondered. Well, when he brought out all of his limbs he did somewhat look like one…  
  
When the soldiers heard that, some of them paled while one or two ran away. However, most of the just got even more determined. Surprisingly, none of the archers shot at Kaneki again, intelligent enough to know it wouldn’t be useful.  
  
“Take me to your leader,” Kaneki repeated, one of his eyes changing from normal brown irises to a frightening red, the sclera darkening to black.  
  
This time, the soldiers obeyed.

-x-x-x-

The leader of the local Nilfgaardian troops was a man with a plain face, slightly red from frequent alcohol consumption, with a shaved head. His gleaming armour held scratches attesting to past battles.  
  
"Milan Noran,” said the man. “Lieutenant of the Third Section.”  
  
"Ken, family name ‘Kaneki’, of Oreton.”  
  
Strangely enough, Milan Noran seemed nowhere near as belligerent as his peers when faced with Kaneki’s presence.  
  
"Oreton wishes to discuss terms of surrender,” said Kaneki.  
  
They were both sitting in a large tent with a desk and a few bookshelves. Presumably, it was where Milan Noran gave his orders. Nilfgaardian troops only built such large tents in areas where they would be staying or a while. It was proof of Oreton’s strength that the Black Ones had been forced to build such an encampment.  
  
Milan Noran snorted. "We salted your fields. Fishing won’t be enough for you to hold longer than a few weeks. Why should I negotiate with you and give concessions when I could just wait until you starve and acquire Oreton that way?”  
  
Kaneki wanted to say that he had come in order to ask them to allow Lord Vserad to walk over unharmed for negotiations. Kaneki was not meant to be the one arguing for Oreton’s safety. However, considering he had barely managed to make these people listen, asking the Black Ones to wait while Lord Vserad came over would probably kill any chance of having them hear Oreton’s terms . The negotiation would die before it had even begun.  
  
Faced with such a situation, Kaneki made a decision. Hopefully he wouldn’t regret it.  
  
“It’s all about the numbers,” he answered. “If you wait, then eventually we’ll be hungry enough to decide it’s worth it to attack. You’ll win the battle, of course, but I can promise I’ll have killed several hundred more of your men before you find a way to stop me.”  
  
Milan Noran didn’t even twitch at the threat.  
  
“But if we negotiate now,” Kaneki continued, “you’ve got a bloodless victory. An immediate one.”  
  
“An attractive prospect,” said Milan Noran, stone faced, “but you forget yourself. The empire’s army is vast, and a few hundred souls make little difference.”  
  
Kaneki shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “Then refuse the offer, and we’ll get back to how things were. You can tell your men you’re risking their lives when there could have been a peaceful resolution.” He rolled his shoulders back, appearing relaxed and uncaring. His gaze went back to Milan Noran, turning sharp. “Or, you could find a better solution, and get a reputation out of it as someone who keeps his people safe. Who knows, maybe you’ll even receive a commendation.”  
  
Unfortunately, Kaneki’s words didn’t create the sense of pressure they were meant to.  
  
“Or,” Milan Noran said dryly, “I could refuse you and tell my soldiers a lie, make your terms seem unreasonable and absurd.”  
  
Kaneki’s lips tightened. His bluff had been called, and he had very few cards left to pull. It was time to take things up a level.  
  
“If there is peace between my village and Nilfgaard, then that means I shall no longer have to fight, and I will find myself with a lot of free time,” he said.  
  
One hundred ... Ninety-three … Eighty-six … Seventy-nine … Seventy-two …  
  
“And who knows,” Kaneki continued, taking a step closer, “maybe I could be convinced to put my considerable strength to work for another cause, one that would appreciate someone capable of killing hundreds of people at a time.”  
  
Ah, Milan Noran’s expression changed at those words. There was an interested gleam in the man’s eyes.  
  
“But then again,” said Kaneki, sharper, “that would entirely depend on how grateful I feel for services rendered. Do you understand?”  
  
A pause.  
  
“That is a much more interesting offer than your first one,” admitted Milan Noran. “I’ll admit, I’m tempted.”  
  
Kaneki’s stomach felt like lead, because he knew that “I’m tempted” did not mean “I’ll accept your offer”.  
  
The Nilfgaardian sighed. “To be honest, I’m not high enough up the hierarchy to make such decisions. You would need to talk with Sergeant Cahwry var Llechyn, who is in charge of recruitment at Wastrel Manor.”  
  
Hope came back at those words. There was a chance. But…  
  
“Wastrel Manor is too far away,” said Kaneki. “I will not leave the village undefended while negotiations are made.”  
  
Wastrel Manor wasn’t a manor, so much as the ruin of one, set on a hill . What was left of it would still serve well enough to be a defensible position, so he could understand why it had been chosen.  
  
Kaneki had only been there once, early on in his stay in this world, before Oreton was surrounded on all sides by soldiers in black plate. It had taken him an hour to go there, although he hadn’t been walking particularly fast. Even if he ran, the time it would take to go there, negotiate, and then come back would be more than enough for the Black Ones to take over Oreton completely, taking advantage of his absence.  
  
“The sergeant will not be moved for a mere Temerian,” said Milan Noran, “even one as unusual as you. How much is peace worth, in your eyes?”  
  
Kaneki’s jaw tightened. The offer could be genuine, but it was much more likely Milan Noran would use the opportunity to invade Oreton while he was off at Wastrel Manor.  
  
“If I send two or three people to Wastrel Manor to negotiate in my stead, will you allow them to pass, unharmed?”  
  
“I’ll do even better,” said Milan Noran, the corner of his lips twitching upwards. “I’ll send a few soldiers to accompany them on the way, so no bandits or other opportunists can prevent them from reaching the manor.”  
  
Kaneki wasn’t sure if Milan Noran’s intentions were that altruistic, or if he just wanted to keep an eye on the only people who would be allowed out of Oreton in months. Even if this was a trap, Kaneki could not think of any superior alternatives.  
  
“Very well,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll head back. The representatives will be sent out shortly.  
  
  


-x-x-x-

  
  
When it came down to it, things went more smoothly once Kaneki was out of the picture. Three people were sent out—Lord Vserad, Lester the ealdorman, and Samer, a merchant with good haggling skills that were seen as potentially useful.  
  
It was late morning when they left, and from what Kaneki saw as he observed them walking over to Milan Noran’s troops, they were better received than he had been. It could be because Lord Vserad was obviously a lord and this medieval society had some in-built deference to nobility, even that of a country being invaded, or it could be because Milan Noran had ordered them to behave.  
  
As soon as they were out of sight, Kaneki spent his time restlessly pacing around Oreton, ready for the Black Ones to launch an attack, but it didn’t happen.  
  
Hours passed until, finally, as the sun was starting to disappear over the horizon, Lester and Samer came back. Lord Vserad wasn’t among them.  
  
Kaneki was there to greet to two men at the gate.  
  
“How did it go?” he asked, impatient.  
  
Lester smiled. “We are a’ peace.”  
  
Kaneki’s heart leapt, but his natural pessimism had him asking: “The price?”  
  
“You owe ‘em five years of service,” said Lester. “They wouldn’t settle for no less. Wanted ten years, at first! But we got ‘em tah promise to allow you five visits to Oreton a year, so yeh can check they’ve got gone behind your back and killed everyone anyway.”  
  
“That’s… good.” He didn’t particularly want to be a Nilgaardian soldier for five years, but it had been clear pretty early on that Oreton had nothing else of worth to bargain with, and Kaneki wasn’t selfish to the point of dooming all the villagers to death just so he could keep his autonomy. In the grand scheme of things, five years was a price he was willing to pay to save those that had sheltered him.  
  
“We also got a few economic concessions,” said Samer, the merchant. He scratched his beard, yawning. “They’re not allowed to tax us any more than King Foltest did.”

Kaneki frowned.

Noticing the confusion, Samer explained: “Just because the Black Ones are giving us peace doesn’t mean they won’t find another way to punish us. They could just give us enormous taxes and hurt us that way instead of killing us with weapons. So I tried to get rid of any loopholes they might use against us.” He continued with a few explanations on other things the Nilfgaardians had agreed to give them, before reaching the best part: “And while you’re working for them, Oreton pays only two thirds of taxes, to give everyone time to get back on their feet after the war destroyed everything.”  
  
“Where’s Lord Vserad?” asked Kaneki.  
  
“He’s staying at the manor,” said the ealdorman.  
  
“As a political hostage,” added Samer. “He’s worth a lot, and can be used by the Black Ones as a puppet ruler for Velen who’d be more accepted by us locals than the Bloody Baron.”

The Bloody Baron was not a noble at all, but an ordinary man who had served in the military and held the loyalty of a group of former soldiers, out of work now that Temeria was no more. He had taken over Lord Vserad’s former stronghold, the one the noble had abandoned when he’d ran away to Fyke Isle with his daughter and servants. Nowadays, the Bloody Baron’s men would go from village to village, doing what they would call ‘taxing citizens’ and what the locals would call ‘raping, looting and pillaging’.  
  
“We got several copies of thah contract,” said Lester. He brought out three scrolls of parchment, held closed by a ribbon. One of them was handed to Kaneki. “One is for you. I know you’re not grea’ at readin’, but you can always ask a scribblar to do it for yeh.”  
  
“The contract has all the information you need,” explained Samer. “If the Black One you’re working for refuses to let you come on one of the agreed visits to Oreton, you can show him the contract as proof you’re allowed to. If he still refuses, it’s a breach of the contract and you need to go straight to the sergeant as Wastrel Manor who signed this.”  
  
Kaneki nodded. He looked down at the scroll in his grasp, deceptively fragile for something so momentous. “Is this legitimate? There’s no way they could have fooled us into signing a worthless contract?”  
  
“To the best of my knowledge, this is a true contract that they will have to uphold,” said Samer. “Of course, in times of war, not all promises are respected, but that’s what the visits are for. Come back regularly to see that the Black Ones are doing as promised, and if they’re not, you’re already a soldier...” He lowered his voice. “You can go inside a military camp and take revenge on our behalf.”  
  
“Go out in a blaze of glory, huh?” said Kaneki, his thumb rubbing the expensive vellum making up the contract. The material it was made of was a good sign, showing that the Black Ones were willing to put money behind this and were unlikely to be accepting peace terms for the sake of a trap.  
  
“Yeh’ll need tah report to Wastrel Manor in two days,” said Lester, putting a hand on Kaneki’s elbow. He squeezed reassuringly. “Thank yeh for doing this fer us. I know it ain’t much, but if yeh wanna visit, there’ll always be a room waiting for yeh at my home. Yeh _saved_ us. May the Allgod bless yeh.”  
  
Kaneki’s eyes were still on the contract.  
  
“Right,” he said. He looked up slowly. Lester and Samer were already looking back at him, expectant. “Right.”  
  
He sighed, shoulders slumping with the knowledge that Oreton was safe.  
  
His village was _safe_.  
  



	5. Farewell

The next day, the troops started to clear up. The omnipresent silhouette in the distance was slowly disappearing back beyond the horizon, with soldiers pulling down the barricades and folding up their tents back into small packs. In response, the village was celebrating the visible proof of a cease-fire.

As for Kaneki, he was using what time he had left to help Graham. The man wanted to add a room to his house by the lake, as his sweetheart was moving in and there was hope that there might be a child in a year or two. Anabelle was resplendent, smiling constantly now that her father was absent and she could marry the man she loved without judgement.

“Aren’t you sad that your father is a hostage?” asked Kaneki at some point, holding several planks of wood. Those planks had been salvaged from a half-burnt house, its occupants dead in the latest attack by the Black Ones. Despite the black burns scarring the wood, Graham had assured Kaneki that it would serve just as well as any other.

Anabelle had been a bit nervous around Kaneki at first, unnerved by his white hair and dark nails, not to mention the trail of bodies he’d left as he’d carved through the Nilfgaard invaders. But Graham’s visible fondness of Kaneki (not to mention the rest of the villagers’) had made her relax, eventually forgetting any fear she might have had.

“I do wish he were at my side,” she admitted, leaning against the fence lining the wooden path near Graham’s home. “But it isn’t the first time someone in my family was taken as a political hostage. When I was younger, my brother was taken to court.” She huffed. “‘Invited’, they said. My father knew it was because he’d refused to pay the full amount in taxes the year previous, since the harvest had been bad. It would have meant taking so much grain from the peasants that they wouldn’t have enough left to sow in the fields, let alone enough to feed themselves.”

Kaneki set down the wood he was holding, moving a little closer to her as she continued to speak:

“I haven’t seen him since,” she admitted, “but I have received the occasional letter. And my father has never refused to pay the full amount of taxes again.” She smiled wryly. “It is sensible of the Black Ones to keep my father hostage. His title has lost some of its meaning with the recent war, but has enough, still, to give him legitimacy and make him valuable to the empire.”

“What’s all this about?” Graham walked along the planks over to Kaneki and Anabelle, hands on his hips and his face twisted into a mockery of sternness. “If you don’t get back to work,” he said, fighting and losing with the smile that desperately tried to break his facade, “then...” He brought his hand down like a whip, making the corresponding sound effect with an exaggerated _whi-cha!!_

Anabelle giggled. “We were just taking a quick break, dear. Talking a little.”

He came closer and wrapped his arm around her, kissing her on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re happy, but we _do_ need to return to work. We can’t waste daylight, and we need to finish this while we have Ken’s help. I’m afraid my arms wouldn’t be enough to handle this on my own.”

“Sorry for the distraction,” she whispered, pressing her head against his chest.

He shook his head, tightening his hold on her. “It’s fine to take a break, as long as it’s quick.” He released her.

They returned to work shortly thereafter. Thanks to Kaneki’s superhuman strength, they didn’t even need to ask other villagers for help and finished building the additional room an hour before sunset. Anabelle offered to grab them some water and Graham clapped his hand onto Kaneki’s shoulder like an old friend, and a pang of longing shot through him at the thought of different hands that had once made his shoulders their home.

_‘...Sorry. Can you fight for me at full power just one more time?’_

Kaneki really hoped that it would become a nursery soon.

-x-x-x-

The day Kaneki was meant to leave had uncommonly good weather. Velen was a region where it rained so often that the earth itself was constantly wet and even the warmest wool or waxed leather couldn’t give you a hope of keeping dry. The territory was nothing but marshes, and that those who lived here did so because they didn’t have much of a choice. The province was poor and disease-ridden, but it was all that they had. They would still fight to defend it. Oreton had proved that.

Kaneki had half-wanted it to rain, to match his mood as he left the place that had been his home for so long, but he wouldn’t complain about the sunshine.

He headed over to a chest in the home of Nordrada, the woman who had been allowing him to sleep in her guest room during his stay. The chest had remained closed these past months, its contents hidden, unnecessary, but now it felt as though it was time to bring them out again.

He unlocked it with a heavy iron key, and slowly pushed up the lid, revealing a pile of black clothing, thick-soled shoes and a mask with teeth painted on. The mouth grinned at him widely, like welcoming an old friend.

He’d worn this during his battle, back in Tokyo. Just as he had been about to be killed by Kishou Arima, one of the most powerful fighters part of the government taskforce that hunted and killed ghouls, he had been able to escape. He had run, trying to win some time for his body to regenerate before returning to the fight, when he’d crashed into a girl. All he’d had the time to see was that she was tall and ashen haired, with a scar on her face.

Next thing he’d known, he was in some sort of swamp with her. She’d just started running off and had somehow disappeared in a flash, leaving Kaneki stranded in the middle of nowhere.

It was only later, after discussing with the villagers about magic and the supernatural, that he had realized he must have been mixed up in some sort of spell that had accidentally sent him here. Maybe one day, he would find that young woman again, and find a way home.

_‘Let’s just go home already.’_

Brushing off nostalgic thoughts of Tokyo and his friends, Kaneki took off the linen clothing he had been provided during his stay and put his own clothing back on.

First, a skintight black suit. It had a large opening along his back, starting under his shoulder blades to the end of his back, revealing pale skin. That was where his kagune—his additional limbs used for fighting—came out.

Then he put on a pair of knee-length black shorts and the rest. The mask remained in his hand, as he didn’t wish to scare any nearby children.

With that done, he headed over to the home’s main room, where old Nordrada was waiting.

“You come back often, won’t ya?” asked the woman. She looked very feebly, with a wavering voice, but was surprisingly shrewd, something only her close acquaintances would know.

“Thank you for taking me in,” said Kaneki. “I left the clothes on the bed.”

She’d lent him some clothes during his stay, belonging to her dead husband.

“Thank you dear. Now trot along, will ya? Don’t wanna keep those Black Ones waiting.”

He left the house, shutting the door quietly behind himself.

Everyone in the hamlet had gathered around to say goodbye, even the people who didn’t like him very much. Despite previous disagreements, they were aware that the ceasefire was thanks to him, and had showed up out of respect.

“Ken,” said Lester, taking a step closer. He was holding out a pouch. “This is for yeh, to thank yeh for everythin’ you’ve done.”

The pouch was dropped into Kaneki’s hands with the rare sound of clinking metal.

“I went from house tah house, asking folk to give what they could,” the ealdorman explained. “Use it well.”

Kaneki stared at the pouch, so light in his palm, but heavier than any individual in this town had seen in moons. “Thank you,” he said quietly, touched.

There wasn’t that much in the pouch, a hundred crowns at the most, but it would be enough to house him for a few days in an inn, or maybe haggle for a nice cloak or waterproof boots. It would pay for a _month_ of well rationed food.

But Kaneki didn’t need money for food. He didn’t need money for a cloak, or shelter. He was a ghoul - his skin was harder than any sword any Witcher could swing, more durable than the tallest trees on the snowiest peaks. The things he could survive, that he already _had_ survived… the simple villagers of Oreton could never. That they would… that they...

He closed his fingers around the pouch, clasping it tightly. To think Oreton would go through so much trouble…!

“Just remember,” said Lester, “yeh’re always welcome ‘ere.”

Kaneki’s chin trembled. “Thank you,” he repeated. After a second he straightened and, bowing low at the waist, “Doumo arigatou gozaimasu!”

Lester looked a little uncomfortable. “‘S natural, don’t need tah bow. Dowmow gatomasoo to you too.”

Kaneki snorted, and couldn’t help a chuckle at the butchered Japanese. “It's the formal way to say thank you in my language and show appreciation. And I really do. Thank you, Lester." There was a small smile on his face.

Lester’s face colored in a delicate blush beneath the dirt and grime. He hmm’d and haw’d for a second before waving off Kaneki’s attentions. “None o’ that, now.” Stepping closer, voice low so only Kaneki could hear, Lester leaned in close and said, “An’ if anythin’ goes wrong, but yeh can’t come back here, then I have a friend, Voytek. He’s a fisherman, lives in a small hut, east of Crow’s Perch, with ‘is wife and little ‘uns. His home’s just next to tah Pontar. If yeh need help, go tah him and tell ‘im I sent yeh. He’s got a brother in Oxenfurt who could take yeh in if yeh need tah hide, too. Very good man.”

Kaneki nodded.

Next, Anabelle and Graham came forward. Anabelle was wearing clothing that was much more coarse than usual, better reflecting her new status as Graham’s wife. When she’d arrived, she only had one dress, and there had been no return trip to Fyke Isle for her to gather more clothing. Graham and her had spoken at length about the issue of clothing while building a new room in their home with Kaneki. Eventually, they’d resorted to asking a neighbour for clothes in exchange for a few fish.

“We’ll all be thinking of you,” said Graham. His expression hardened. “Be cautious of the Black Ones. Don’t forget who the enemy is. And don’t let them provoke you; they’ll be looking for an excuse to punish you for all the people they lost trying to take Oreton.”

“And you should be careful, too,” said Kaneki. “If _anything_ happens, if they go back on their word, find a way to inform me so I can help.”

Graham nodded and wrapped his arms around Kaneki to give him a gruff hug. Kaneki tensed, and hesitantly patted the man on the back. Graham smelt faintly like fish and earth, and he encompassed Kaneki’s slimmer frame quite easily. There was something undeniably reassuring about the hug.

When the embrace was over, Anabelle approached him and offered a pendant hanging from a thin chain. The metal was painted blue, with the lilies of Temeria on it. It looked old, and quite worn.

“Temeria is no more,” Anabelle said, smiling sadly, “and you’ll be fighting for Nilfgaard, now, but here’s a little something to remember us by.”

Kaneki didn’t much like jewellery, but he understood the sentiment behind her gesture. Without a word, he took the gift and put it around his neck. Or at least, he tried to. The clasp was giving him some trouble, as it was nothing like those used in the twenty-first century.

Anabelle took pity on him.

“Here, let me.”

She moved behind him and her fingers took hold of the clasp. He could barely feel it at she closed the necklace. In a few moments, the pendant was hanging against Kaneki’s sternum.

He didn’t quite smile at her, but his expression did soften. She recognized that and mouthed, “You’re welcome,” at him.

“Thanks, everyone,” Kaneki said loudly, addressing the populace of Oreton. “It’s been hard, and I know everyone’s happen we won’t be attacked any more. I’ll come back as often as I can.”

‘And I will,’ he promised to himself. He would visit the hamlet regularly and check that the Black Ones were men on their word.

“Get a nice medal, won’t you?”

It was Helanda who had said that. Kaneki didn’t know her very well, except for the gossip around the hamlet that she had been looking for a husband for some time. He remembered seeing her covered in rashes the day of the trip to Fyke Isle, but it looked like she had healed. Considering the level of medical care available and the lack of basic hygiene, Kaneki was amazed the woman hadn’t gotten infected.

“I’ll do my best,” he told her.

He doubted Nilfgaard would give him any awards or accolades, let alone a medal, but he wasn’t about to dash her hopes. He didn’t think she realized that joining the army wasn’t that glorious. 

Considering Nilfgaard was invading Temeria, he would’ve thought she’d be aware of that, but now that there was peace, Helanda and many other villages were treating Nilfgaard as yet another power that had tried to hurt them in a long list of people and groups that had already done so. No more, no less.

Kaneki couldn’t understand that. He had an easier time understanding the villagers that couldn’t let go of their grief and anger at the unfairness of the world.

“I’ll visit as often as I can,” he told the villagers. “Take care of yourselves.”

“Bring us back Radovid’s head when you’re done!” shouted one of the villagers.

“Nah, who cares about King Radovid? Buy spices in Novigrad and bring ‘em back! And some grain, we ain’t got no grain anymore.”

“Kill Emhyr! Make the Black Ones regret hurtin’ us!”

“Yeah!”

Kaneki’s eyebrow twitched. “I don’t think they’d like it if I kill their emperor, but I’ll try bringing back a bottle of wine.”

-x-x-x-

A lone soldier stood a short distance from the village, looking at Oreton. He waited. He’d drawn the unlucky straw of having to escort the small town monster back to their camp. It wasn’t the worst posting - he could be cleaning latrines, but standing on the other end waiting for the _thing_ that made human bodies look like parchment was a touch more than his fragile heart could stand. Especially since it was making him _wait_.

After some time, just long enough for the permanently wet chill to settle into his bones, a figure clad in black slowly stepped into view. The morning fog made it hard to see, but the white hair was enough for the soldier to identify it. His grip on his weapon tightened, and his heart accelerated.

“Hey! Monster! You finally done?” he asked. He stuck out his chest with a puff of air. He wasn’t about to let this _thing_ see how it really affected him. “Move it!” He was a proud first son of Nilfgaard, he’d fought in battle and _won_ and he—

His heart stopped.

The Spider of Velen became distinct as it emerged through the fog. It didn’t make a sound, feet silent despite the viscous mud. And its walk—it didn’t walk… right. It was a stalking gait - lax, confident, but _aware_. A predator’s walk. Stark white hair, clothing black as pitch, a mask with a grinning pair of teeth, leaving only one burning eye visible.

The monster cracked a knuckle.

The soldier gasped, stumbling back, but the creature didn’t stop, coming closer and closer. In his haste, the Nilfgaardian tripped backwards, catching himself on his halberd.

The creature might have smiled.

_“Show me the way.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank Calloniel for her help in editing this. She really helped bring the quality of this chapter up. She's a great writer and I recommend you check out her fic, 'ode to sleep', on ffnet. It's a Tokyo Ghoul OC-Insert.
> 
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10694774/1/ode-to-sleep
> 
> This chapter marks the end of the Oreton arc, and the start of Kaneki's journey into the wider world. Hope you're all as excited as I am. :)


	6. Wastrel Manor

Wastrel Manor consisted of a few walls and crumbling foundations. It was surrounded by what might once have been fields, but had been abandoned long enough to be full of thigh-high grass, wild flowers and weeds. There were several tents set up around the manor ruins, some for sleeping and others meant to serve as rooms. All of them were black with Nilfgaard’s golden sun in the centre.

Sergeant Cahwry var Llechyn was sitting at a desk in one of those tents, filling out paperwork.

“You’re the Spider?” he asked when he caught sight of Kaneki and the white-faced soldier that had brought him in. Said soldier scampered off as soon as var Llechyn acknowledged Kaneki, nearly tripping in his haste to leave.

“Ken, from Oreton,” said Kaneki, brushing past the ‘Spider’ comment. “I’ll be working with you as part of the ceasefire agreement.”

“Ah. Right.” He leaned in and squinted at Kaneki. He didn’t look impressed. “With that white hair, I’d sooner believe you’re the White Wolf than a vicious, man-eating beast.”

Kaneki stiffened. “A ‘man-eating beast’ who defended his home from invaders. Do you really have room to talk?”

The sergeant snorted. “If you’d surrendered on the first day, there’d have been a lot less deaths, on both sides.”

Just as Kaneki was about to say something cutting, Cahwry var Llechyn continued:

“Anyway, speaking of man-eating, we need details about your diet.”

“What, you’ve got something to say about my taste for the meat—” He nearly said ‘of your comrades’, before realizing that in his anger, he’d been antagonizing the man who had made the ceasefire possible in the first place, guaranteeing Oreton a measure of safety. Even if the sergeant was rude, being rude in return could have consequences for Oreton. Kaneki couldn’t afford to be so reckless. “—of the fallen?” He pulled down his mask, showing off his face. While it was intimidating, it was best to remain on neutral terms with the man in charge.

The man didn’t let himself be distracted. “Can you only survive on fresh human corpses?”

Kaneki twitched at the candidness. “Yes.” He didn’t bother mentioning coffee; it didn’t appear to be available, as whenever he’d asked for some people had just looked at him blankly.

Cahwry var Llechyn rearranged a pile of paperwork. He took a small metal insignia out from where it had been hidden under the mess. “How often do you need to eat?”

“Once a week. I can stretch it to two weeks if I don’t spend too much energy.”

“Hm-hmm. Here.” He gave the insignia to Kaneki. It had a motif on it, a snake making several loops around a staff. “It will allow you access to the morgue. I’ve asked the men to bring the bodies of bandits and other such rabble back to the morgues instead of leaving them where they’re killed. I’ve informed as the morticians and doctors of the area of your… dietary needs.”

“Thank you.” Kaneki pinned it to his shirt.

The sergeant brought out a piece of paper. “You’ll be joining Milan Noran for training. I believe you’ve already met him, haven’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Go find him and he’ll take care of the rest. This is for you.” He held out the paper. “If anyone asks what you’re doing here, show them this.”

Kaneki took the paper and tried to read it, but couldn’t. He might be able to speak the local language, but reading was something he had trouble with, especially when printing presses weren’t common and everything was hand-written. The paper he’d been given was covered in writing the was unreadable, written hurriedly and without concern for legibility.

“What are you still doing here?” asked the sergeant sharply when Kaneki didn’t move. “Go! Noran should be training his squad. You can’t miss him.”

“Thank you,” said Kaneki. His spine twitched, instinctively wanting to give a shallow bow, but he restrained himself. Temeria and surrounding countries were similar to Europe in the sense that bowing wasn’t as entrenched in the culture as it was in Japan.

He left the tent. Some of the surrounding soldiers turned to stare at him curiously, but no one said anything. As he walked away, he could hear some of them whispering in his wake.

Milan Noran was a little further away, observing three men as they did push-ups in the grass.

“Nearly there, come on!” he said encouragingly.

Kaneki moved so he approached in Milan Noran’s line of sight. The man noticed him and gestured to come closer. He raised his brows a little at Kaneki’s clothing but didn’t comment on it.

“You did not have too much trouble finding us, did you?”

“No,” said Kaneki, observing the soldiers as they finished their warm-up and stood at attention.

“Men,” announced Milan Noran, “this is Ken, who shall be joining our squad. Introduce yourselves!”

The soldiers shared a look, and then one stepped forward. His features were very common for a Nilfgaardian, with black hair, blue eyes, thin lips and a long, aquiline nose.

“Dalegor,” he said. He stepped back so the next one could introduce himself.

“Dilvyn,” said the following one. His features were just as common for a Black One, though he had brown eyes instead of blue. “… Nice to meet you.” His tone didn’t quite match his words.

The last soldier was remarkable in the sense that he had red hair, which Kaneki had never seen in a Nilfgaardian.

“Hrodeberth,” he said. When he noticed Kaneki’s stare, he rolled his eyes. “ _Yes_ , my hair is red. My father was Mag Turga-born, that’s where I got it from.”

Milan Noran clapped his hands. “Good, introductions are done. Now it’s time for me to explain our purpose.” He waved Kaneki off towards the other soldiers, so that they’d all stand in a line while he spoke.

“I’ll be in charge of this squad while we’re working together. My superior is Havart var Moehoen, field marshal.” He went on to explain a few more details about the hierarchy, telling them how the chain of command worked. It was clearly entirely for Kaneki’s sake, because his three squad-mates didn’t look to be learning anything new. “We’ll be going through drills as a team and spending a week getting Kaneki caught up. Next week, we’re off on our first mission.”

“Do we already know the mission parameters, sir?” asked Dalegor.

“Confidential,” said Milan Noran. “I’ll only be telling you next week.” He looked at Kaneki. “Ken, your uniform isn’t here yet. Supplies of armour only arrive in the afternoon. For today you’re exempt, but tomorrow you’ll have to wear it.”

Frowning, Kaneki interrupted: “I don’t need armour. My skin can’t be cut.”

A ghoul’s skin could only be cut by the predatory organs of another ghoul. Back in Tokyo, the government would use kagune taken from ghoul corpses and use them as weapons to hunt down ghouls, but here in Velen it was not possible. The only way to kill Kaneki is to starve him, poison him or crush him under something heavy. There were also sorcerers, which apparently existed in this world, but Kaneki had never met any so he wasn’t sure if they were real or just a myth.

“I don’t care,” said Milan Noran. “It’s part of regulations to wear the proper uniform, so you need to do it. I’ve already asked the quartermaster for armour, and it’s on its way as we speak.” When he saw Kaneki’s frown, he softened a little. “We might be sent on missions where we’ll have to dress like the locals. You’d be able to take the armour off then. Until that happens, even if you don’t need it, you’ve got to wear it or you’ll be in trouble.”

Kaneki was still against the idea of wasting money on this. It cost a lot to create armour, and honestly he’d rather give it to someone who would need it more. But he didn’t care about Nilfgaard enough to insist.

“Now,”—Milan Noran made a gesture towards the empty field behind the camp.—“let’s talk about the details of your training, and what you’ll be learning...”

  
  


-x-x-x-

  
  


Fitness training wasn’t particularly hard when one had superhuman strength. Unfortunately, endurance training was another thing entirely, especially when Milan Noran was testing how long Kaneki could keep up for.

So five days after Kaneki had arrived, he found himself exercising for several hours under his superior’s eyes, while being questioned on what he had been taught so far.

“What is the 3rd Army?” Milan Noran asked.

Without stopping his pull-ups, Kaneki responded: “Mounted cavalry.”

“Switch. Name two of its divisions.”

Kaneki dropped to the ground and began sit-ups.

“Alba Division and...” He frowned, thinking as he brought his upper body down. “Deithwen Division?” His abdomen tensed, and he sat back up, before lowering himself again.

The other members of his squad were resting in the shade, a little ways off, and observing his training. They’d flagged after a while and had to give up, but Kaneki’s inhuman stamina allowed him to continue for much longer.

“Who commands the Alba Division?”

“Um… Voorhis?” Kaneki couldn’t remember the commander’s first name for the life of him. Luckily, Milan Noran was satisfied.

“Switch! Who is the quartermaster of the army group ‘centre’ command?”

Kaneki rolled onto his stomach and started going push-ups.

“Uhh...” His mind was blank. “Egg-something?”

“Tavar Eggebracht,” Milan Noran corrected. He glanced at the other members of the squad, who weren’t doing much of anything, and sighed. “All right, you can stop.”

Kaneki halted, lying down on the ground. He didn’t feel tired, exactly. Instead, the exercise had burned off excess energy and made him hungry. After a moment, he stood up, waiting for Milan Noran’s opinion.

“You’ve all got the rest of the day off,” Milan Noran said, his voice made to carry so that Dilvyn, Dalegor and Hrodeberth could hear. “I’ll be expecting you tomorrow morning, at the usual hour, so we can talk about our mission. Dismissed.”

Kaneki relaxed as soon as Milan Noran was gone. With his training just about done, his duties as a soldier would start soon. He would be fighting soon. To be ready, he needed… to eat, to have a full stomach.

Living in Velen had done more towards helping him accept this part of himself than living in Tokyo ever had. He used to be so opposed to eating people, wanting to starve himself just to avoid it. But now that he was in a place where death was so common, _cheapened_ , in a way, and food was plentiful… he found that his 21st century morals were… eroding, a little.

Not to say that he was turning into an unfeeling monster, but he was a lot more accepting of his status as a ghoul than he had been shortly before becoming one, especially when being a ghoul had allowed him to protect Oreton and, more recently, bargain for a ceasefire with Nilfgaard.

Back in Tokyo, being a ghoul had only brought him grief. He couldn’t find food to eat, was hunted down by the government for being what he was, and had had to stop his studies and cut ties with his friends. Well, friend, since he only really had one.

But in Velen, he’d been mostly accepted and seen as a valuable member of the community despite being a foreigner, all of that because he was a ghoul. Had he been a human, unable to speak the local language, he wasn’t sure he would have been taken in and educated. Oreton had welcomed him because of his strength, and without it he wouldn’t have survived long.

All of that meant that while he felt some tension at the idea of visiting the morgue for the first time since joining the Black Ones, he didn’t feel the visceral discomfort and disgust he might have had, once.

Instead, he just felt a small sense of trepidation, but was mostly focused on thinking about the mission he would be going on soon. And that, the fact that he wasn’t so stressed about food was something he was only starting to realize now, months after having first arrived in Velen. He’d been… not happy, but content. He’d been content for so long when it came to food that he had forgotten it hadn’t always been that way, and it was only as he thought back on his life in Tokyo that he realized how well he was living now.

He still missed things from home. He wanted to see his friend Hide again, wanted to see the staff at Anteiku Café, wanted a take-away cup of black coffee to sip on while he walked the bustling streets of Tokyo.

But he liked chatting with the ealdorman in the mornings, and having his advice heeded. He liked babysitting the little Voytek, accompanying Graham on fishing trips, strengthening the wooden walls around Oreton. And yes, he even liked training under Milan Noran, hearing all about Dilvyn’s daughter Beatrys and how Hrodeberth had a fiancee he would be marrying as soon as the war was over. Kaneki also liked seeing Dalegor flinch and sometimes yelp whenever he came too close, being a rather superstitious man who was still getting used to him.

Yes, he missed Tokyo, but… if he were given the option to return, then he would decide to stay in Velen. A few months ago the idea would seem ludicrous, but now that he’d settled down and made himself comfortable, he found the idea of staying…

… quite reassuring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every single character that is named in this story is a canon character. They are often minor characters from quests Geralt goes on, or only mentioned in a letter or note, but they all exist. For example, Kaneki's three squadmates. You get a quest involving Dilvyn and one with Hrodeberth. Dalegor is the writer of a letter addressed to Sergeant Cahwry var Llechyn.
> 
> Anytime I mention a name, it's a name taken from canon. Even names mentioned once in passing.
> 
> I wanted to avoid using a single OC so I've been replaying the game and writing down as many names as I come across in Velen, around the area this fic happens.


	7. Meeting a Spy

“Leather’s not worth it,” Dilvyn was explaining to Kaneki while their squad waited for Milan Noran to arrive. They were all in one of the tents built around the remains of Wastrel Manor, usually used as a meeting room. “It protects you, but it’s expensive and a pain to repair. Gambesons are better, even if they don’t look as good.”  
  
“How long can a gambeson last?” asked Kaneki.  
  
“If you’re careful? Around a year. But that’s if it doesn’t get ripped up every time you’re in a battle.”  
  
Kaneki thought about the fact that it covered all of his upper body, including his back, from which his predatory limbs would burst out if he needed to bring more strength to a fight.  
  
Ah… he’d have to avoid doing that.  
  
“Good to see you’re all being productive.”  
  
It was Milan Noran who had said that. He pushed aside the flap of the tent and came in.  
  
“Listen up! We have an important mission ahead of us, so we need to stay focused.” His expression was set in a sharp glare. He headed over to the desk at the end of the room and set down a roll of paper on it. It was unrolled, revealing a simplistic map of Velen and the surrounding area.  
  
“We’ve reached a stalemate,” he said, pointing at a thick, uneven line drawn through the map. “Redania is defending its territory with all it has, and we aren’t capable of going any further.” He pointed at the area north of the uneven line. “There are two big cities. Novigrad, here,” said Milan Noran while pointing at a city on the border between Redania and what had once been Temeria, “which is independent for now. Then we have Oxenfurt, which is under Redanian rule.” Oxenfurt was east of Novigrad a little more to the south. It was smaller, too.  
  
“We gonna try to take Novigrad, sir?” asked Dalegor.  
  
“Our squad is much too small to take a city,” said Milan Noran. “We’d need more men for that, especially if we’re taking Novigrad.” He raised his voice. “No, our mission is to destabilize Radovid’s hold over Oxenfurt. The two cities are a huge source of gold, and Nilfgaard has access to none of them. We need to get rid of Redania’s advantage.”  
  
“How will we do that?” asked Kaneki, looking down at the map sceptically.  
  
“Sabotage. We’re going to infiltrate the city and you,” he said, looking at Kaneki, “will attack a building housing the soldiers. You’ll need to kill as many as possible. The rest of the squad will provide distractions and ensure you have an escape route when the time is right so we can all leave intact.”  
  
“I’ll be on my own,” clarified Kaneki, not happy with this in the slightest. It felt like he was being sent out as an expendable soldier while the rest of the squad remained safe. Kaneki was a lot less vulnerable than ordinary humans, but he’d only been working under the Black Ones for a week and hadn’t built up a lot of trust in them yet. It was understandable that he’d feel uncomfortable at the idea of having to do all the work on his own, and being the only one facing any real risk.  
  
“You have the strength of a hundred men, Ken,” said Milan Noran sternly, “and you have just as much fortitude. Did you think we wouldn’t want to use such abilities?” He gestured towards the rest of the squad. “They wouldn’t last a minute fighting in the middle of Oxenfurt, surrounded by Radovid’s men on all sides. The only reason Nilfgaard hasn’t been able to take the city until now is that the size of the army we’d have to amass would be visible from quite a distance, and give the Redanians all the time they need to reinforce their walls and call for help.”  
  
Kaneki didn’t respond.  
  
“How are we going to enter Oxenfurt?” asked Hrodeberth, the red-haired Nilfgaardian. “The city is locked up. You need a signed pass to enter. Even a disguise won’t be enough for us to get in.”  
  
Milan Noran smiled. “Our spies have found a way in through the sewers. It’ll be uncomfortable and dirty, but if our mission is a success, we could land a devastating blow against Redania. Our squad will also gain notoriety as something else than ‘that group with the cannibal in it’.”  
  
Dalegor, who had been smiling excitedly since hearing how important the mission was, looked away with an uncomfortable cough. Dilvyn was pursing his lips. Only Hrodeberth seemed unaffected.  
  
They knew what they were getting when they took him in, thought Kaneki. He wasn’t ashamed, not like he might once have been. His status as a ghoul had allowed him to protect Oreton and made him valuable. It came at the cost of eating humans, yes, but in this world, death was cheap. The entire area was in the middle of war, and there were also plenty of bandits about. Corpses were plentiful, so Kaneki never had to feel bad about eating someone innocent like he would have back in Tokyo.  
  
“Speaking of cannibalism, I’ll have to be in top form for the mission, so I’ll go to the morgue and look for a meal before we leave.” The words were said defiantly, daring the others to judge him, to say something.  
  
After an awkward pause, Milan Noran said:  
  
“Good idea. Everyone should be ready with a full meal before we depart. Don’t eat anything too heavy, because going through the sewers won’t be enjoyable and you don’t want to be vomiting. We’re meeting back here in an hour. Don’t bother coming in uniform; you’ll be changing into clothing provided specifically for the task. Dismissed.”

  
  
-x-x-x-  
  


  
The clothing they’d be wearing for the mission was a lot more opulent than what Kaneki had worn during his time in Oreton.  
  
“We’ll be pretending to be a group of merchants and guards bringing goods further up North,” explained Milan Noran as Kaneki and the other squad members inspected the outfits they’d been given. “Dalegor, Hrodeberth and I will be the guards. Dilvyn and Ken will be the merchants.”  
  
Milan Noran handed a bundle of cloth to Kaneki. When Kaneki took hold of it, he saw that it was some sort of headwear, bearing a slight similarity to a turban.  
  
“You’ll need to wear this chaperon,” said Milan Noran. “It’ll hide your white hair.”  
  
“Understood, sir.”  
  
“We’ll be heading out to a stonecutter’s settlement with a cart full of false goods. It’s the closest we’ll be able to be to Oxenfurt without risking discovery by Redanians,” Milan Noran continued. “We will make the rest of the way on foot and meet one of our comrades outside the city. He’ll show us how to enter the city and we’ll carry out our mission tonight, at the moment when there’ll be the least amount of guards awake and aware.”  
  
“When will we be back, sir?” asked Dilvyn.  
  
“In a few days, probably a week,” was the response. “After the attack, we can’t risk being discovered, so we’ll be laying low for a while until the search parties stop.”  
  
There wasn’t much more to say after that. Milan Noran explained a few more details about the mission while the men put on the provided clothing.  
  
They left rather quickly once the preparations were over. A horse would be pulling the cart, with Dilvyn riding it. Kaneki would be sitting on the cart, between two empty wine barrels. The three others would be walking in formation around the cart, playing their roles as guards.  
  
Kaneki was a little disgruntled, because when Milan Noran had said ‘we’ll make the rest of the way on foot’, Kaneki had assumed it meant everyone would be riding horses.  
  
It took four hours to reach the stonecutter’s settlement. The cart was slow and risked breaking if the horse went too quick, so the horse couldn’t go faster than a trot.  
  
By the time they arrived, Kaneki was sick of carts and thankful being a ghoul allowed him to run at inhuman speeds. At least in Oxenfurt he’d be able to move fast while he attacked the Redanians.  
  
The settlement was completely empty. He wasn’t sure if it was because the war had chased people off, or if this place had been abandoned long before that.  
  
A few seconds after the cart had stopped, their contact appeared. He was a man with rather round features, and despite being bald, his beard indicated that his natural hair colour would be dark gold. His clothes were mostly shades of blue.  
  
Just like Hrodeberth, he looked nothing like a Nilfgaardian. That was probably why he was used as an informant.  
  
“You’re the one buying our wares?” asked Milan Noran.  
  
The informant nodded, relaxing a little. “John Verdun, at your service.”  
  
Kaneki paused, and couldn’t help but blurt out: “That’s a Temerian name.”  
  
John Verdun’s eyes flicked over to him. “Yeah. Used to wear the lilies on my shield. Unfortunately, Temeria’s no more, and when people found out I survived because I ran from battle, finding work got difficult. So here I am, helping you Nilfs because it was either working for you, or for that traitor Radovid.” His eyes narrowed as he took in Kaneki’s appearance and Hrodeberth’s red hair. “Hmpf, seems I’m not the only foreigner working for the Black Ones.”  
  
Kaneki frowned, but didn’t say anything back. Nilfgaard had done terrible things during the war, but so had Redania. As for Temeria, it had taken large amounts of food from its own people to feed its soldiers, thus starving countless men and women. Even Novigrad and Oxenfurt, a free city and a place of learning respectively, were full of zealots doing terrible things in the name of religion.  
  
There was no doubt that the people of Oreton would have done terrible things too if they had the power or opportunity, but they hadn’t because they’d been too focused on surviving and repelling Nilfgaardian troops.  
  
“The information, Verdun,” said Milan Noran.  
  
“Right.” The Temerian nodded. “Here’s the path inside the city.”  
  
He brought out a map of Oxenfurt, with several dark lines drawn on them.  
  
“I got access to information about the city’s sewer system, especially the parts that have been walled off and aren’t publicly known about anymore. I drew the entire sewer system on top of this map, with this being your entrance.” He pointed at a spot near Oxenfurt’s famous academy.  
  
“And the sewer isn’t guarded?” asked Milan Noran.  
  
“Only partially,” said John Verdun. “All known exits are either guarded or have people nearby who would notice something off. But there’s an exit that leads straight to a warehouse. It was closed off with bricks around twenty years ago and no one remembers it anymore. I checked, and it’s brittle enough that you could break it open with some force. You’d need to finish your business quickly, because if the hole is seen then you won’t be able to escape back through there.”  
  
Milan Noran nodded, satisfied.  
  
“There’s only one thing you need to worry about,” said John Verdun, turning serious. “I’ve heard rumours that tell me there’s a high chance the sewers are infested with drowners or some other corpse eaters. Folk have been going down there and not coming back out again.” He shook his head sadly.  
  
“We’ve dealt with such creatures before,” said Milan Noran, pocketing the map. “It won’t be a problem.”  
  
And the way he gazed at Kaneki said that even if there were more drowners than planned, Kaneki would be more than capable of dealing with it.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested, John Verdun is from [this moment](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/At_the_Mercy_of_Strangers).
> 
> I've got one chapter left and then I'll be out of pre-written material, which will lead to slower updates. I won't write much during the month of June due to uni exams, but I'll return to writing in July.


	8. Vissy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. I was so stressed due to my exams starting this week that I spent all my time revising and forgot to post a chapter yesterday. So here it is, a little late.

The city of Oxenfurt was set in the middle of the Pontar River, on an island shaped like an ‘8’ that was larger at the top than at the bottom. The city was surrounded by thick, high walls, with only a small expanse of sandy beach between the walls and the water of the river.  
  
The entrance to the sewers was set in the wall around the city. It was round in shape, reaching Kaneki’s shoulders, and covered by a thick metal grating with a lot of rust.  
  
“Get in, quickly,” ordered Milan Noran.  
  
The grating had already been detached for them in advance, and placed in a way that would make people think it was still intact. The squad would have to hurry, because the distraction keeping nearby guardsmen away from this part of the wall would not last long.  
  
Being the strongest, Kaneki was the one to hold the grating while his squad-mates hurried in, swords in hand. Once he was inside, he put the grating back in place as well as he could to complete the illusion that nothing had moved.  
  
“Be vigilant,” Milan Noran reminded them. “We don’t know how many drowners are around. I’ll go first, since I have the map, and Ken will be next to me as security. Hrodeberth will be in the middle. Dilvyn, Dalegor, you two will be at the back. I expect you to look behind us regularly in case something attacks from behind. Hrodeberth, you’ll be focused on the ceiling, in case we get giant spiders or other nasties waiting to drop down on us. Kaneki and I will focus on the front and the sides.” He frowned at them, tilting his head to show how serious he was. “Focus on looking where I told you to. Monsters are unpredictable and can attack from anywhere. If everyone here does what I asked, then we won’t be taken by surprise. It’s crucial that you obey. If you’re busy anxiously looking behind you when I asked you to look in front of us, then we could walk into an ambush.” He nodded decisively. “Is everyone ready?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” came the numerous murmured responses from the team.  
  
“It’s unlikely we’ll come across anyone down here,” said Milan Noran, “but just in case, remember our excuse.”  
  
The men nodded.  
  
“Any last minute questions?”  
  
Everyone shook their head.  
  
They had prepared well before coming here, planning for every eventuality, so they had no questions. Even Milan Noran’s reminder about the drowners was redundant, as they’d already spoken at length about it earlier, but the stress might be making the man repeat himself just to be sure everyone remembered to be cautious. This was an important mission, after all, and a mistake could mean death.  
  
“Good,” said Milan Noran. “Let’s move.”  
  
The smell in the sewers wasn’t as terrible as Kaneki had feared. It didn’t smell good, but it wasn’t to the point of making him want to gag, either.  
  
While the entrance t the sewers forced them to bend down to fit, as soon as they were in the sewers proper, the could strand comfortably.  
  
“Isn’t it a bit of a bad idea to have sewers people can walk in?” asked Kaneki. “Shouldn’t the waste travel through pipes that are too small for someone to pass through, so that it’s harder to infiltrate the city?”  
  
Even though only his squad was here, he spoke with a low voice, to ensure any potential eaves-droppers couldn’t hear.  
  
“Bad idea, mate,” whispered Dilvyn from the back of the group. “I’ve worked in construction, expanding the sewers in Vizima and ensuring there’s plumbing in the palace after we annexed the area, civilizing it to a level the emperor can tolerate. Can you believe Nordlings filled bathtubs by bringing water in buckets, instead of opening a valve?” He shook his head. Apparently he had forgotten that Kaneki had been recruited from a 'Nordling' village. “Anyway, the sewers there were exactly like ‘ere in Oxenfurt. The reason they ain’t small is because you’d have to dig up the roads every time you want to change an area in the sewers, repair it or some shit. And what happens when there’s a blockage somewhere because some people are stupid enough to send dead rats or old rags down the sewers instead of burning it properly?”  
  
Kaneki turned around incredulously. “Dead rats?”  
  
“Aye,” Dilvyn nodded. “People know what should and shouldn’t be sent down to the sewers, but they still disobey, too lazy to get rid of cumbersome things properly. They think that if they throw it down the sewers, they can get away with it. And they’re right about that, but if everyone does the same, then within a few months the plumbing might be blocked in places and then we get called in to fix the mess.” He sighed. “The plumbing in building is small because space is limited, but underground in another thing entirely. You can make things big there so it’s unlikely for an obstruction to form, and if it’s large enough to walk around then it’s easier for workers to do their job. They also don’t need to open up tons of pipes just to find where the problem is.”  
  
“But it’s still a weakness to have such easily accessible sewers,” pointed out Kaneki.  
  
Milan Noran nudged him, and Kaneki turned back to the front instead of looking back at Dilvyn. The squad continued walking while Kaneki and Dilvyn conversed in low tones.  
  
The walls of the sewers were made of uneven bricks and were wet, with an occasional trail of water coming out cracks in the surface. Some sort of green plant grew in patches on the wet stone, either moss or algae.  
  
“That’s why the sewers have several large gates with bars, like a prison cell,” explained Dilvyn. “There are many of them, and you need keys to open them, or you need to dismantle the gates like it was done with the one at the entrance of the sewers. That makes it difficult to come in. And with the drowners prowling, and every sewer exit guarded, it’s difficult to make an army come in the city through the sewers successfully.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
Milan Noran made a sharp motion, gesturing for silence. Everyone stopped moving and strained their ears. They could hear the distant sounds of splashing, and excited growling.  
  
“Drowners,” said Hrodeberth with a frown. “And they must have found something to eat, to be that noisy.” Sweat trickled down his temple, but his expression was steady, determined.  
  
Milan Noran bent his knees, holding his sword ready. “I can hear at least two. We’ll approach slowly and fan out as soon as we’re in combat so we don’t give them one big target. Ken, you’ll be first.”  
  
“Sir,” acknowledged Kaneki.  
  
“We need a silent fight. There shouldn’t be anyone close enough to notice, but—”  
  
“We shouldn’t take the risk,” said Dalegor.  
  
Milan Noran glared at the man. “No interruptions.”  
  
Dalegor pursed his lips, looking away. “Sorry, sir.”  
  
“And don’t take any risks,” continued Milan Noran, glare not abating. “Drowners are easy to kill, but a moment of inattention could lead to a serious injury. We’re a small squad, so we cannot afford that, all right?”  
  
Everyone responded with a chorus of near-silent, “Yes, sir.”  
  
Without a word more, Milan Noran looked at Kaneki and gestured forward with his chin. Kaneki nodded and placed himself in front of the team.  
  
His predatory limbs weren’t out yet, but he was ready to deploy them at any moment. His clothing had been chosen with that in mind, as he wore a tunic that was extremely loose, especially around the abdomen, so that his kagune would have enough space to come out without tearing the material. On top of that he wore a hooded cape that stopped just beneath his tail-bone, held shut at the front by buttons on the left side. The cape was just long enough to hide the area where his additional limbs would come out, while being short enough for his kagune to slide out from beneath the cape without ripping through it.  
  
The sewers consisted of several twisting passages that were interconnected. Those places where they were connected were larger than the passages themselves, forming big rooms with openings in every direction, sometimes blocked by thick grating and sometimes not.  
  
When the squad reached the second of said rooms after a bit of walking, the sounds of drowners were much louder, as were a woman’s shrieks. The situation quickly became clear once it was in sight. There was a woman cringing near a wall while two drowners were fighting over a man’s corpse, still gushing blood.  
  
Without hesitation, Kaneki shot forward. He didn’t bother using his kagune. He just grabbed a drowner and threw it at the closest wall with such strength that there was a loud ‘ _crack!’_ of broken bone.  
  
The rest of his squad had already joined him. Milan Noran and Hrodeberth engaged the other drowner, while Dilvyn and Dalegor finished off the one Kaneki had thrown, which was still twitching weakly.  
  
Within seconds, both monsters were dead. In the ensuing silence, only the woman’s shaky breaths were audible.  
  
She was a pretty woman, with slightly ruddy cheeks, Her hair was hidden behind a bonnet, with a few locks escaping it, giving her a dishevelled look. She wore a simple dress, pale brown.  
  
“Are you all right?” Milan Noran asked the woman.  
  
She nodded, looking down at the still warm corpse with teary eyes. “I, yes, thank you.” She sniffed, her mouth forming a wobbly line. “That was the man I’d hired to protect me. If it weren’t for you, I would have joined him swiftly after, becoming part of the Eternal Fire.”  
  
“Why are you down here?” asked Hrodeberth incredulously, pushing some of his red hair out of his face. “The sewers were closed off by the authorities a few days ago for a reason. The water is foul and it’s been making people sick, and there are necrophages down here!”  
  
She huffed, straightening up and putting her hands on her hips. “And what about you all?! Why are _you_ down here?”  
  
Dilvyn was the one to answer. “We’re just a bunch of hayseeds who—”  
  
Milan Noran elbowed him rather strongly and took over:  
  
“We’re from Temeria. Our village got burnt down and we have family in Oxenfurt that’ll take us in for a few days, but we don’t have the pass to enter the city.”  
  
“It was either coming in this way or starving with the other refugees,” completed Dilvyn, furthering the lie.  
  
“Oh.” The woman’s aggression left, replaced by sheepishness. “Terribly rude of me. It must be difficult for you. I...”  
  
“And what about you?” asked Milan Noran. “Why did you come down here? You don’t look in danger of starvation, so there shouldn’t be any reason for you to be down here...”  
  
There wasn’t any irritation in his tone, only compassion, but Kaneki knew how annoyed he was. The sewers were meant to be empty, and Milan Noran didn’t like that it wasn’t the case. The only positive was that the woman wasn’t a Redanian soldier, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t give them up to the authorities if they weren’t careful.  
  
“There’s a very good reason for any ambitious woman to be down here.” she said, wringing her hands. “My name is Vissy. I’m a cook for Lord Olgierd von Everec. My wages are fair, enough for me and my ailing mother, but not enough for me to make something of myself, you know?”  
  
“What does that have to do with risking your life down in the sewers?” Milan Noran interrupted.  
  
“I was getting there!” snapped Vissy. “Really, you’re so _rude_ , interrupting me like that.” She crossed her arms, looking away with a huff.  
  
She missed Milan Noran’s expression and the smirk on Dalegor’s face at seeing his commanding officer being called ‘rude’ to his face.  
  
“Anyway,” continued Vissy, looking back at them. Milan Noran and Dalegor hurriedly toned down their expressions. “I heard rumour of a cursed prince roaming the sewers. He’s been turned into a toad, and of course anyone who knows the fairytale knows that a kiss will turn him back.” When she saw the incredulous looks everyone was giving her, her crossed arms tensed. “I’m not stupid. I know he’s unlikely to marry me if I undo the curse, especially since I’ve no noble blood, but he would at least be thankful enough to offer money, if not some land, as thanks for saving him.”  
  
Kaneki shared a look with his squad-mates. Dilvyn, who was behind Vissy, brought his finger up to his head and swirled it around mockingly.  
  
“The sewers are huge. Are you sure you’ll be able to find a small toad in this maze?” asked Milan Noran. He was pursing his lips, trying to hold the laughter in.  
  
He wasn’t as subtle as he had thought. Vissy stomped angrily on the ground, glaring at him. “Well excuse me for wanting to improve my prospects! I’ve yet to find a man to marry and I won’t be of child-bearing age forever! If there’s even a tiny chance I might get the favour of a prince, _then I’m taking it_ , even if it’s a one in a million chance!”  
  
“I understand,” said Milan Noran, holding his hands up in a pacifying gesture. “But with your guard dead, it’s dangerous for you to continue… looking for a cursed little toad.” His lips quivered as he tried holding back his smile. “How about you come with us? We’ve got swords and can keep you safe.”  
  
Kaneki wasn’t against that, but he wasn’t for it, either. Letting Vissy tag along was an unnecessary risk, especially since this was meant to be a secret mission. Yet at the same time, leaving her alone was sentencing her to death. Kaneki would have thought Milan Noran would have left her alone, since Nilfgaard had always been reading to kill, pillage and rape during this war, so he was pleasantly surprised that his commander would try to help the woman. But at the same time, she was a clear liability to the mission. Kaneki would survive if the mission failed, but his squad-mates might not, and they didn’t deserve to die. They weren’t perfect, but Kaneki had come to care about them during his week of training.  
  
“Thank you,” said Vissy, looking down at the still warm corpse the drowners had been trying to devour earlier. “I would appreciate it.”  
  
They rearranged the squad so that Vissy would be walking behind Hrodeberth and in front of Dilvyn and Dalegor. When their group continued on its way towards the exit marked on Milan Noran’s map, Kaneki came closer to the man to ask:  
  
“Why are you letting her follow us? She could ruin the mission.”  
  
Milan Noran came closer and whispered: “She lives in Oxenfurt. If we’re caught by Redanians, her presence could help. And I couldn’t just _leave_ her there.”  
  
Kaneki glanced behind; Vissy didn’t appear to have heard them. He nodded at Milan Noran, and the man nodded back.  
  
This wasn’t exactly how he thought the trip would go, but he’d have to make do with it.  
  
Kaneki put the issue of Vissy to the back of his mind and focused on the path ahead.  
  
He had a mission to complete.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last pre-written chapter I have. From now on, chapters will have to be written first, so updates will be slower. This week and the next are full of exams, so don't expect updates.
> 
> After that, I plan on asking Calloniel to beta the other chapters (she already did the one where Kaneki says goodbye to the villagers and frightens a Nilfgaardian soldier) just to improve the overall quality. I'm good at writing from a technical standpoint, but she's great with emotions and character motivations and often helps me make characters feel less wooden.
> 
> No major things would be modified, so you wouldn't need to re-read the chapters. It's more likely that some little details or the way some things are worded will be edited.
> 
> If anyone has constructive criticism about the chapters posted so far, I'd love to hear it. Since I'll be doing a big round of editing, might as well see if you guys have any advice on how to improve.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got 20K already written for this story (including author's notes). I'll be editing and maybe adding a few extra scenes as I update. The 20K have been divided into 8 chapters that are on average around 2.5K, and I'll be updating weekly, on the same day and at around the same time, until I run out of material. I'm updating slowly to give myself the time to write and have a bit of a buffer before I have no chapters left.


End file.
